His Sweet Waters

I never have those dreams anymore,

Where the blue inviting water,

of swimming pool or lake curve me into a slick-fish dive,

that lazy crawl where arms slice, palms pull only to find the water’s not as advertised,

turning brown.

Full of floating crap and litter, foul

burning eyes and causing me to look to the sides or banks suddenly so far away

and I’m left holding my breath trying not to swallow shit…

I never have those dreams anymore.

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