Postcard from the sun

Finally arrived here late last night,
had chicken sandwiches (cold) then straight to bed.
Up with the lark this morning, eh?
First with a lounger, soaking up the sun
and studying my fellow guests -
and what a crumby lot they are, close up!
I watched them in the pool for quite a while... ah yes,
the pool! Guess what: there's human swimmers and there's fish:
angel fish, spiny things, exotic fish of all sorts. Popular?
You've never seen the like of it, they're queuing up to have a splash.
I thought I'd have a dip and got in line. Some monkey says to me:
"Gotta put down a deposit, John!" "How much?" I says,
"Your life is forfeit!" so this dickhead says. Imagine that.
Can you believe it? Quite preposterous. They're all mad here!
I told him what - and jumped in anyway. "The holiday
is all inclusive, mate!" I yelled, once I was in. Tell you what, though:
three old dames just passed, one's a flipping zebra,
skin all bands of dark and light - I wont say where:
one's covered in a polka dot design; and the third...
all brindled and with whopping patches like a cow. The word is -
I've just heard - the pool's a gene pool. People come
(to take the waters, so to speak) from round the world
to swap their genes with what- who-ever comes around,
all random like. I'm not sure how that works, maybe
there's something in the water. It's something chemical
or magical. Or just chimerical. Who knows? for them as do's not saying!
Whatever. Fact is, you might end up part jelly fish;
you might be better off. More likely worse,
but if you're not content with what you are, you take the chance.
They call it therapy. If so. it strikes me, mum,
they should have dolphins in the pool,
imagine what we might pick up from them.
A thought. I think I've partly sussed it mum:
them going down into the pool, they could be punters
in some glitzy big casino. They're full of fear and trembling,
they don't expect to win, they know that most of them
will take a beating, just a few will win - or none at all.
Which makes me think... the psychedelic dames...
they might have used cosmetics. Can't be seen unchanged
when morphosomething's all the rage. Cripes and bugger me,
you'll never guess what now! Some bathing dame has just held up a fish -
and there's a finger sticking out its head. Must go,
just to say I'm safe and well, stop worrying, love son. XX

I have offered this poem to dVerse Poets for citiques