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The Wet Monkey lll

The sheet spread behind me on the green
like a detachable white train. I
studied the in-trouble monkey
flailing feebly, spinning or just drifting,
its squirrelly face fixed on the sky,
mouth open, fangs showing, caught
in the grip of the meniscus, barely keeping afloat,
my ten, square toes curled over the edge,
several new minutes of sun-up
having added their gold to the trough.
Did I want to be the savior of a monkey, I thought,
that would never thank me?
but that would otherwise drown
and need to be fished out dead with a long pole
leaving the jungle less one monkey, of which there were lots,
and that probably carried a disease?
That was the question.

In one day there's time for lots of good deeds
most of them pass un-noticed.
From the sky pity rained in my soul
I've a swimmer's body, lithe and long,
with good legs, I've been told,
I won a medal in the Pan South American games
bronze, mind you, but hey,
a medal, no less. I ran. So, it was no big deal
to save a drowning monkey before breakfast.
Should I, all things considered, take a risk?
Did I want to, really. While thinking, the monkey sank-
it looked like a rag, underwater, outspread
limbs fine for swinging through trees useless now:
'Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, ' I cried,
then instinct kicked in-
Identifying with the monkey's plight, I jumped....

Or dove, whatever you want to say...

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