\"through the blue\"
At the public pool,
a man in a faded visor
lectures the swimmers
about moisture.
He taps the laminated sign
as if unveiling a doctrine:
“You\'re too wet.
That\'s on you.”
The lifeguard looks away,
busy with the quiet work
of keeping people afloat.
Nearby, a gull drags a chip packet
across the concrete-
its own small protest
against unsolicited guidance.
Someone on the steps
wrings out their towel,
not in shame,
but because towels do that
when they\'ve done their job.
The visor-man continues,
warning the pool-goers
that taking water seriously
will ruin their day.
He gestures at the deep end
as though it\'s a moral failing.
But the swimmers
slip beneath the surface anyway,
moving with the calm certainty
of people who understand
that immersion is part of the craft.
No one argues.
They simply drift sideways,
letting his voice dissolve
into the background hum
of splashes, lane ropes,
and the faint carnival-air
of cotton candy drifting
from the kiosk.
In that small shift-
that quiet refusal
to carry someone else\'s posture-
the water steadies around them,
and each stroke
reasserts a simple truth:
sensitivity is not a burden here.
It is the instrument
that keeps them moving
through the blue.
.