Cup your hands like this, I said,
and when your arm comes out of the pool,
just roll your head to the side for air
She giggled, slurped water, puffed her
chipmunk cheeks and squirted me
through gaps in her teeth
Later, we climbed out and dangled our feet,
her baby fat pooched over her swimsuit
like white-flour dumplings
Then we heard two pool workers picking up Coke cans behind us
They bought another Rolls Royce yesterday.
Makes me sick
Wonder how many little old ladies
paid for that
They laughed like the shrill whine of the pool’s vacuum
I turned and looked Tammy Faye's daughter straight in the eye,
but she'd disappeared—
gone scuba diving in Maui,
enough oxygen strapped to her back
so she'd never have to surface
again.
