Your Swimming Pool

By Dylan Angell

I am the escaped convict who has been swimming in your pool. I lay naked in the sun while your little dog sleeps under my arm. The deer and the rabbits watch me as I dig into your garden, eating tomatoes from the vine and nibbling on the edge of the lettuce heads. I am in your magnolia tree when you rise for work, I see you make your coffee and eat your toast. I undress as soon as your car pulls from the driveway. Once you reach the highway I am floating on my back, watching the clouds claim their territory.

My arms are scraped up and filthy. All night long I rebuild collapsed houses, not as homes but as monuments to what has always felt impossible. Everyone’s work is only half way done and I am no exception. The wind and the elements will rearrange my efforts. This was only the first collapse, there will be more and then my work will begin again. I don’t want anything from you. I just want borrow your pool. Soft carpet corrupts my calluses. Fine wine makes me sleep too easy and things are so easily misplaced in the night.

I am leaving you small clues, objects built from things that I have scavenged from the visible world. Rearranged and presented as something new. I have left matchstick men in the garden and jewels at the bottom of the pool. I find abandoned things and I arrange them without sentimentality. After all, they are just objects. I have made collages on water stained walls. Made from the photobooks of ancient families who have abandoned their memories or else they never needed these objects to remember.

Glass is a beautiful thing when smashed up. The sunlight barely notices a single pane but if you break it up into pieces then every morning is like being at the disco. It’s the bad things that last forever. This walmart crap doesn’t burn so easily but a table made of wood and built with love will become kindle again if you ask it to.

I do not understand most things. I am always asking myself why-- why do we treat everything as being fixed when it is still mailable? I once was afraid of my invisibility but I know now that while I don’t mind being seen, I hate to be watched.

Dylan Angell is a North Carolinian who is currently based in Queens, New York. In 2016 he released the book, An Index of Strangers Whom I Will Never Forget A-Z, via his Basic Battles Books imprint. He has collaborated on two books with photographer Erin Taylor Kennedy; 2017’s I'll Just Keep On Dreaming And Being The Way I Am and 2018’s Beyond the Colosseum. He has been published in Fanzine, Fluland, Parhelion, The Travelin’ Appalachians Revue and Sleaze Magazine. Sometimes when he can’t sleep he will ride his bike and listen to Bill Evans.

2 Poems

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