Anatomies of Changing

Crossing the threshold again,

I spy a distant peg

Begin to hang my things
Sort the space,
Place my bag just so.
Around, the duds of 
Fellow swimmers stowed
In wild array, some so
Neatly put in place,
Zippers tight,
Sock to toe,
Grooved like grid lines,
Or boot-camp beds.
The dishevelled rest -
Towels, t-shirts tossed
As if the owners fled,
Conjuring earthquakes, or
The very last to go.
Still others hang as if
Thrown in jest,
A game of quoits
Or make believe -
Don't fall until we're wet.

Walking the line of pegs,

Through the barred light,
A geography of disrobing
Is as human as it gets.