The Pool
A short solar system away exploding hydrogen sunbursts send rays to me lying protected by a greasy blanket of tropical oils and science mixed. I bask alone, unneighborly quiet.
My eight year old cousin lurks beneath the pools surface glitter, in her mind a shark, in reality a crazed otter-whirling derbish. Other children run and splash, keeping to the warmer, safer shallows.
This holiday weekend our neighbors are here, a clamerous mingling of our
tiny commonwealth. Sorid shorts, ice cream colored, made deeper than
they are, polorized, by my sunglasses, sit next to dry, extra large bikinis
and skin white as milk.
Occasionally a whiff of smoke and barbque's tease, my stomach rumbles. Corn, melons, cool salads and more sit waiting on tables beneath umbrellas and lanterns dancing in the wind.
My sister, kind, sardonic waiter appears with lifesaving frosty root-beer. I peer thankfully into her shadow's temporary, cool shelter. Between MP3s I hear the trees rustling as if they too feel the need to entertain.
I surrender to the parching sun and prepare to plunge into the pool. Sunglasses off, and the world is reveled in natures tasteless, glaring, impressionist blur. A lazy dancers leap and I splash through the glittering surface into the cold water. A short flight, a submarine journey from side to side and I'm out and back in my lounger, sunglasses on and tingling skin. The perfect dazzling day!