The boy’s feet move too fast to count,
Too fast to think about, really,
Sprinting the short distance to the end of the board
Where they suddenly stop
And everything changes at once.
He uses the laws of motion to rise in the air
Where he crosses his legs and hangs motionless,
Like a little Buddah in equipoise
A floating monk in swimsuit and goggles.
His achievement does not last.
His secret is he does not expect it to.
With knowledge bound by experience,
Something he can use but not explain,
He falls with mathematical precision
In a private vision of brief happiness.