Swim Club
By: Loukia Borrell
Deltona Howl
2014
Maybe it is the water
Pale blue and shimmering
Soft and glimmering
Next to the concrete apron
The mothers arrive in their one-piece bathing suits
Toting the towels and sunscreen in paisley bags
They sign in and feel exclusive as they pass the gate
On a journey to find an empty table
And adjust the blue umbrellas to their liking
Spraying sunscreen until the air smells like coconuts
And the kids dash away so their mothers
Can sit and chatter until it is time to go home and make dinner
The little kids scream and jump off the diving board into the water
Their teenage counterparts sit shoulder to shoulder and gossip
Or lie in the sun and sleep, dreaming about freedom
Or they find a picnic table where they can eat slices of pizza
And text friends who aren’t there about who is
It’s summer at the pool
The snack bar is open
The snow cones are selling
The crushed ice looking like diamonds in the sun
And the cherry syrup pools in the bottom of the paper cup
Until Labor Day
When a tarp covers the water
That has now turned green
The umbrellas are stored for the winter
And we have other places to go, inside
