TINY GATEWAY:

The swimmer talks with a fast mouth,
About numbers,
And people in water,
To his rainbow wife,
Who slaps her leg habitually as she speaks,
It has nothing to do with anything,
As mashed avocado arrives,
“I lost my stride”,
She said,
Selecting silver weapons,
From a gleaming selection,
Delivered with efficiency
In a dance of Black & White

(K)