Azure

the disturbance spreads,

and ripples away,

as the fatso paddles,

alone, during the lunch break,

in vain attempts,

to lose all that marbling.

the green of chlorine,

can not be seen,

but it fails to hide,

a hint, lingering,

of the morning swimming class.

the skyness of the retaining walls,

and the beige of the ceramic tiles,

marking the lanes,

and the fatso’s blue trunks,

and pink skin,

he’s the only one that sees my color,

though his goggles fog up, the idiot,

he’ll give up soon, they all do.