Boating by Evan Chen (New Jersey)

I was wearing my ten-size-too-big trunks. 
 
My brother Eddy walked beside me,
slapping my back every now and then. 

The water smelled like something dead and decaying. 
I wanted to puke, my face as pale as a glass of milk. 
I never liked the story of Poseidon.

---

I glanced at the algae-filled water. 

That made me sick. 

The shallow ocean looked dense with filth.

That made me sicker. 

My brother pretended to gag.

That made me sickest. 

Compared to the yachts docked everywhere, 
ours was like a fish next to a heavy whale. 

But speed was lurking, and excitement, 
an antsy anticipation that felt like sarcasm.

Our boat kept accelerating, 
and I turned to my brother to ask for a drink, 
but instead laughed uncontrollably like a freak,
and offered a fist bump to Poseidon.​