everyday summer ease

And there was the pool, clean and blue, on the lower edge of the property, past the driveway, beyond the horseshoe pit, surrounded by a fence to keep the deer out. It is shaped like a bean and has a small waterfall splashing from one of its curves. we waded in it with large, absent minds. Asking obvious questions only because we had the time to, then letting silence perform its casual deconstruction of life and its stupidity. The trees curled up and broke the sunrays. A hawk hovered then attempted to dive but hesitated above the trees. The fm radio blared a thousand oldies, every one we would love and remember. There was a mini-fridge filled with beer. We bought water guns and, after getting bored with shooting at each other, shot at dragon fly’s.

i would find myself alone and stand at the edge, playing one of the cd's i made of our music, modern and complicated and as my brother said, "almost too busy for its soul." i would stare up and out onto the land, beyond our house and into the distant landscape of northern california, noting how the hanging leaves fractured the day as it reached out towards me like the hands of starving children. i would wait until the song reached its peak, when it crescendos into its own purpose of emotion, then dive into the water, letting the sound drown into the whoosh underneath.

then i would climb from the pool and lay in a patch of heat, letting the warmth of my mothers home burn away all my worries, the memories of brooklyn, of manhattan, of home. then my brother would arrive and would ask what i was doing, and i'd say, "nothing," and he would say, "that sounds like a plan," and he would grab a beer and lay down in a chair and stare up to the calm blue sky.