Parliament Pool

A summertime poem. It's hot outside.

summer afternoons we
quenched our poolside
thirst, crusty snow cones and
ice cream man wares numbing
our fingers and tongues

we played a game called
guess that tune,
singing songs underwater
as sound materialized into
bulbous bubbles that moved
slowly like a flaccid gospel:
chlorine pricking against
squinted eyes

no words, but all the better
to appreciate the music
the dull echo of waterside sound
london bridge is falling down