Varicose

The model was an old ballerina

She used to perform with the Royal troupe in London

You could see it, like putting a paper towel tube to your eye and looking back through time

I stared out at the grey lake, still and cold like steel, and fantasized about sinking beneath it

Like you could peel back the layers of her old skin and find that fresh taut body just waiting to emerge again, ripe as summer fruit

She had blue veins all over

I kept thinking she must have been very beautiful, once

I kept thinking that I should still find her beautiful

I was acutely aware of the ugliness of my own thoughts.