blue tile bathroom

i loved our boyfriend bathroom.
the swimming pool right beneath
the tongue. on bruise nights
i listened to the man upstairs 
tearing apart his life. he was 
pacing & making calls. he did not
have a swimming pool. my pool
stretched far. got deeper each day.
i would sometimes find a bonnet
& a pair of lost keys in there.
no lifeguard so i could do whatever
breath-holding i wanted. turned my lungs
into coin purses. the man had 
a wife & lost her. the tiles were smooth
to the touch. reminded me of 
elementary school when every texture
still had a sound. i spent as long 
as i could in the bathroom. found
the pool there too, though i never had
enough courage to take the plunge
during the school day. once the man
knocked on my front door while i was
busy swimming. i wrapped myself 
in a towel & answered. he asked,
"are all your friends alive?" i admitted,
"no, not anymore." he seemed relieved.
maybe wondering if his burdens were
mundane or unique. i almost offered
for him to come inside & enjoy the water.
if i told anyone about the pool though
it would disappear. i had already almost lost it
when the ceiling started to leak & great
huge tuna fell from above. he learned 
to levitate once for a week only. 
i did not hear his feet, only his voice.
sometimes i do hear people long after
they are speaking. a ghost sense or 
psychosis, whatever you want to call it. 
the tiles were blue. deep blue. the only
part of the apartment not trying
to fall apart. sturdy. checkered like cow's teeth.
i floated, face up.