The swimming pool at the hotel is empty
guests are having supper.
On limpid water two big yellow balls float
asleep after being thrown about all day.
Around the pool deep green artificial grass,
and a ditto tree that sheds no leaf.
Nature has been recreated.
No fish will ever swim in a pool that has
blue tiles at its bottom to pretend
to be the real sea that is a few miles away.
Except for insecticide and chlorine there is
no aroma other than the smell of nothing.
so sterile, so insipid, so dead.
But wait, a young couple might swim here
late at night, make love and their juices might
mingle, bring a renewal, to this oasis of sterility.
But perhaps not, I see a sign telling bathers:
“Smile you are on camera.”
