my two angels float above me
kicking and splashing at the pool’s surface
their laughter skipping like perfectly flat stones
across the water
I lurk well below, submerged with my vacuum
intoxicated by my lowly position
in these depths
removing accumulated filth in the corners
the detritus of dead bugs, dirt, and debris from my chemical flockings
I’m a quiet, folded-mouth art restorer gently maintaining
his masterwork fresco
content in my submerged anonymity
the pressure in my lungs urges me up
dizzies me
I envision then the entire pool, frozen
transformed into a block of solid glass and lifted
our three bodies fixed upon the sky’s cerulean ceiling
vaulted upside down for display
we, a three-dimensional Creation of Adam, but a near eternity later
my hand once extended to them, retracted now
busy and burdened by the business of life's maintenance
my girls now floating at some greater, oblivious distance
the pool bottom clear now, my lungs
singeing against the edge of an advancing brimstone
I am unable to prolong this religious moment
my light-headed ecstasy
but I stay down a dangerous moment more
and a reptilian concern slithers past
that I may relish the distance
the isolation
that I'm no more than a bottom feeder
just a Pleco

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