Back in Lake City for retirement,
Where of course there are pits of blue water
That everyone wants to walk by,
Be seen in, and drift across
During an afternoon as it fades away.
It all looks like blue Plexiglas to me,
An archipelago planned and constructed
No different than a pool,
Fellow citizens brag about the fish
But every species looks introduced.
I know I will be alone,
Yet I spend my days down by the fountains
That spurt jets of oily water,
Temporary rainbows colored by the sun
Which I try to keep off of my skin.