The smell of sunscreen mixed with citronella: perpetual summer. Sitting on the guard stand, the idyllic teenage summer job - get a tan and get paid! Friends and annoying little kids abound, whistles and straw hats, and if you forget your water bottle I'll hand you a red plastic cup with a healthy dose of shame. Snarf lunch on a twenty-minute break, or if you're lucky an off-duty guard will run to Safeway for sandwiches or sushi.
So much encapsulated above the blue chlorine water and below the blue hot sky.
Pulling tarps as the sun rises, quiet in the early morning. Old ladies wait to do an exercise routine recorded over a tape of Kenny Rogers songs. Trees and birds watch the cycle of the day go by as parkas are peeled off, the old ladies leave, and chipmunk chatterers of children arrive to jump or be dragged into the pool for a half hour of heaven or hell.
Pulling tarps as the sun sets, tired sunned-out skin, lithe happy bodies, high school idealistic chatter: "What's everyone doing tonight?" The never-ending search for thrills on vacation in a small hometown.
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