I only went there once.
During the hours,
when I would sit on the burning cement,
dipping my toes in chlorine.
My body would lean closer
to the edge of the deep end,
where she told me there were mermaids.
I wanted to see them.
The turquoise scales and cascading hair.
The bubbles spewing from their mouths.
But I leaned too far in.
They pulled me
into the twelve-foot deep.
I think they forgot that I couldn’t swim.
No matter how much I wanted to,
I couldn’t flick my legs,
and fly through crystal liquid.
I swear that she smiled back at me.
The one with rubies decking her tail.
How could I know, anyway?
My eyes were trapped with the sting of pool water,
in the pit of the deep-end.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.