The Circle

A man sits by the pool
Half smoked cigarette smouldering
In the fingers of his left hand
That dangles close to dry tiles

He stares at the green water
As if the water holds the answers
To all the questions that
Fall like meteors on the planet of his mind

The dull heat makes his vision swim
An apparition swims to the surface
Of the water that parts like a door
To throw up a strange mutates figure

The thing plucks the cigarette
From the man's idle hand
It takes a drag, coughs, breathes out smoke
As the man slowly begins to choke

The figure helps the man to his feet
Pushes him into the silent water
That parts to accept him
And the figure sits in the chair
To wait for another apparition