- There is no
No rolling, dusty dunes,
Accompanying this particular oasis.
A devestated basketball court,
Laid to waste by both earthquakes
And a lazy fitness center that tags along, as well.
But the beating heart
Is the community pool.
A community jewel.
A shallow sapphire.
Cut amongst a patch of trees.
(Most likely by sweaty gods, tired of yardwork.)
Tumultuous turmoil and
Apparent conflict lingers all around,
Swelling and stinking in the hot sun, like
A recently deceased something.
But none of it is relevant.
Once it reaches these reverent gates.
Guarded by erect umbrellas and
Supported by the slouching chairs.
This rarely swept terra-cotta patio,
(That has never, ever burned even a single foot)
Who lounge in the spotlight of the sun,
Disregarding doctors recommendations to apply slimy spf’s,
And instead chase sleep,
While snoozing on a chaise lounge.
Their pink bellies covered only by a magazine from yesterday.
(Their closed eyes obviously covered by eyelids.)
Even while awake,
Some of them observe nothing.
The Spanish moss that
From tree-limbs overhead
Serve as casual weather vanes,
Indicating the arrival and departure of the busy thunderstorms.
And very capable fire-ant,
Patrols the perimeter.
Making sure that any
Discarded pizza crusts,
(Left-over from a party featuring scores of beautiful balloons and bright plastic cups)
Stay out of sight.
Mysterious stereos is always welcome,
But they will always compete with the bees
For top billing.
Besides the fallen leaves, that float like tiny catamarans,
And the children that need wings to fly in this water,
more than just a pool.
It is a landmark,
Not illustrated on any map.
Or documented in any history book.
(Although it should be)
It is right where it needs to be.