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One of Several Jobs

by Garret Keizer


   They have a pool now, the people

   in that boxy house I pass on my way

   to town, above ground but pretty

   big. I can almost hear them

   say the words A pool! as in a shimmering

   dream, and then as a serious fact of life

   with duties and obligations, such as having a lot

   of company, whose cars are often in the yard.

   I see the painted metal glare, a tall crystal

   splash—wet kids tearing around the lawn,

   and big pale daddies drinking beer,

   the moms presumably on deck talking

   a tan streak behind the bamboo screen.

   Sometimes late at night,

   or when the air is cold, or when no one

   is at home, I drive by and stealthily bless

   the vacant pool. It’s one of several jobs

   I have, pool-blessing. It pays

   even less than writing poems,

   with about the same prestige, but

   I can choose my own hours and I also

   do trampolines.