The ground will give way and hoist us tomorrow. But in this moment, there is a chair that reclines and a boy whose rubber duck teases a man with shaky hands commemorating the first dive. I should know, because in the last seven minutes, he has managed to slip and cuss thrice.
There must be hurt aplenty. But right now, I must guard my parents' striped towels and soaking slippers till the lights in the pool and their eyes go out. Let's consider that the world must come crashing down on us tonight. If all I see swimming and sinking were to slide into darkness this instant, I'll know that I for one have long lost the heart to even make it to the water. But, I'll revolt against the world if I must to keep the chuckles going, or simply stay ashore to remind them we must turn the lights back on.
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