Dream-swimming

Gliding across the water,
a foot below you becomes twenty,
and you are a skyscraper skimming the ocean.
Soft fogs of wet cotton flow by you,
and coat every hair with a bead of crystal.
Some days, the roughness of the waves toss you between their outstretched fingers,
and you wonder how long they can go,
before they drop you,
tossing you into the dark sodden depths.
A glimpse below you,
of shining scales and thrashing fins,
reveals itself to simply be your brother,
with his snorkel and fins,
chasing a torpedo across the pool,
and your waves reveal themselves to be merely ripples,
caused by those jumping into the water, again and again.