the pool opens

surrounded by a high
chain link fence,
topped off with
barbed wire
your pool opens
to the sound
of screaming
children
dropping like
rocks into
the cold june
water and the sound
of the guard's
whistle, as he
yells, no running,
no diving,
get out of the deep
end, kid.
you are stretched
out on a scrubbed
lawn chair, with a
new towel, a new
lime green set of
trunks, that you
aren't sure about
rereading the
Great Gatsby, after
seeing the not
so great movie.
because of the trees,
throwing a canopy
of shade onto
half the area,
everyone wants a chair
in the circle of
sunlight, so you
are bunched together
inches from one
another listening
to their intimate
conversations.
pointing at parts
of their legs,
asking each
other if something
looks infected.
you don't go near
the water, ever,
but the showers are
nice and chilly.