A man is drowning while we fish for flounder
from a Fire Island jetty.
Someone jumps in fully clothed
wraps an arm around and brings him ashore.
Sombody else starts artificial respiration.
The man drools a bit, opens his eyes contemptuously:
“Why the hell didn’t you mind your own business?
What have you done to me?”
We pack our gear.
The water has been disturbed and fishing seems pointless.