adult swim

the water’s been bleached again.

everyday the lifeguard takes the

big, white bag of tiny crystals,

wiping the community pool

of any mistakes from the day before.

the metal gate squeaks open,

and your nostrils sting with the scent

of a successful summer

and the cheap sunscreen

applied vigorously to your

already reddening cheeks

and your mother’s warnings

to wait at least thirty minutes

after eating before swimming.

you never listen.

instead, you focus on

how the candy you bought

from the snack shack mingles

perfectly with the chemicals in the deep end.

it’s not supposed to be consumed,

but a part of you secretly likes how

the chlorine tingles on your tongue.

everything tastes better underwater.

so you come back every afternoon,

you and your childhood friends

take your towels and pray that

you can catch enough sun to become

as tan as the girls in Seventeen magazine.

you spill your secrets between bites of cheetos

and pepperoni pizza underneath forts constructed

from folding chairs.

before you know it, the same bodies

that got chastised for running

on the deck eventually grow

longer, leaner, stronger

and earn the privilege

to stay in during

adult swim.

My name is Claire Portele and I’m a freshman from Greenville, South Carolina. Currently, I’m majoring in emerging media and minoring in political science, but that’s all subject to change! I’ve been writing since I was young but just recently discovered a love for poetry in creative writing class this semester.

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