by Thad DeVassie

It contains no lifeguards. There is no running, ever. There is no such thing as the deep end. The Space Station concession stand only sells packets of dehydrated food. Bathing suits, there is a glaring need for proper bathing suits. Nobody knows if it is yet to open or permanently closed, if it will be a seasonal or year-round operation. It remains a dream, perhaps an achievable one, like when you were a child going under and holding your breath, hoping to last a little longer than anyone thought possible.