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Blue raspberry taste of brain freeze
left on my tongue,
I jump
pencil style,
it’s worth more points than cannonballs.
(Lucy the lifeguard is judging,
and she’s anti-splash.)
Today the chlorine tastes
like buttered popcorn and burns,
nose aching I emerge
Roll over lane lines until
my ragged pink nails graze the bottom.
Lucy waves. Eight of ten—
I need to point my toes.

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