HUMOR | POETRY | FICTION
At the Shallow End of the Pool
Discovering what comes after the enjambment
In your azure ripples, limbs weightless at last, all thoughts disentwine, sun stroking my skin.
When ears submerge, in the hollow of vacuum, freeing you of stimulus, pacifying every nerve.
Others might disrelish what the shallow supplies, I’ve plunged to my ends, never to return the same.
Prequel:
It was a regular Sunday afternoon, and I was busy doing nothing.
Then I received a text from Grandma inviting me to play risky games. But when I arrived, she assigned me a task. Which isn’t an unusual occurrence.
She and Ryan were to interview for a job at a new and exclusive swimming pool. They were tasked with marketing by writing poetry from its deep end.
The above excerpt is from my application, which I snuck in with theirs. A lazy, entitled millennial like me can smell a sweet gig from a mile away, and this was the very best. Anything to get my pesky parents off my back.
I was hired on the spot for a three-month internship.
Our pool was frequented by the rich kids — influencers, nepo babies, and trust fund enthusiasts. They came here to contemplate and be removed from the daily grind of scrolling through social media at the speed of light.
While my sonnet and swimming skills are mediocre, if there’s one thing I excel at, it’s making people feel. So my confidence was at a whopping 2/10.
The three of us were separated by 50 meters (164 ft), but it didn’t matter.
I had my verses to keep me company.
Forfeiting my freedom, the sum I’m paid is paltry, every outfit is custom, Have you had your coffee?
Escaping the hourly hustle, from throes of ennui, blowing gratitude bubbles, vibing like Ratatouille.
Chasing lows for kicks, affluenza is your diagnosis, bodies sold for clicks, a fresh brand of neuroses.
Murderous thoughts of exes, sleepless nights of woe, inexplicable battle of flexes, never discovered the flow.
Anger courses thy veins, chilled by alchemic intrusion, tethering invisible chains, halting the saga of evolution.
Your aversions play on repeat, twice dipped in saccharine, aesthetics pinned preppy elite, thumbs saturating in brine.
Unceasing bytes of data, substituting your inner voices, freely tested for the beta, sad centripetal preset choices.
Memories lost in the matrix, never did learn to share, reality plays its tainted tricks, swap filters till you’re rare.
Daiquiris sate vibrant spirits, angst levitates in chlorine, shadows stretching off limits, our future is but foreseen.
Prompt and Inspiration:
Want to know more about the game? Read this by Grandma Smillew.
The origin story from the incredibly ingenious brain of Ryan Klemek.
Also, a special thanks to Robin Klammer for inspiring me with her (better) humorous poetry so much that I simply had to try it for myself.