Illusion Swims Over an Empty Pool
Feet swing above a blue tiled wall of a piscine / sans l’eau
as if the world has cried up all the water on the planet.
I rest my head on your shoulder and you lean in /to my support
as if we were both armbands to each other.
Somewhere behind a day I made into a memory / in my mind
you fake swim in that pool of dried tile / cracked sunshine
and our laughter reverberates between the stain at the bottom
and the gulls flying overhead / in circling sways
in case we chose to be bait for their beak.
Behind us / a taxi rides away / and we are left to decipher
how life drowned in that place / sans rêve.
Sometimes we sleep to dream / other times we slip our feet
into the emptiness / to dream…
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