The Diving School

We walked from the beach
In our suits
Dragging our flippers
Hindering our march

"They're called fins," he said,
Then we floated
Our weight taken away by the air.
A few minutes more -
He pointed downward
My feet were on the sandy bed
Kicking clouds
As we figure out the balance
Every step fine tune the buoyant.

He points up to the sky
But the sky is on the other side
Of the rippling surface
30 metres up.

I am suddenly under the water,
Floating among the schools
As they dance between my hands
And tickle my calves
As they undulate far under the waves.

A motorboat ploughs the sky
And the school
Vibrate the water, my flesh
As they disappear out of my vision
And into the blue.

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