Chlorinated

The corporate courtyard fountain re-pumps it's water again and again in an endless loop. People ask me again and again if I'm OK, if I'm tired. Yes, I am exhausted. I am that cheap concrete fountain, recycling old joys in a glass cage courtyard. The water, stale and septic, reeks of chlorine and prays for rain. But even this water will evaporate, and I too will return to the lakes where I belong.