The minnows prick
at our toes like soda bubbles.
Our inside out twins
unfold like parachutes around us
across the sparkling surface
of the coiling water, ripples singing
like truth. My brother is an otter,
on his back, upside down,
sub-sandwich-thick water gun
tucked in the crook of his arm.
I float on my back, my hair like a painter’s brush
twisting through the water,
melting into a hallucination
in the summer warmth.