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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