at the creek; the top of the Chain

back home I learned that
the mysterious bubbles are
the passing fish or turtles
expirating, not
underwater volcanoes or
the spelunkers navigating them,
as I had thought.

but the water is too green
or blue (not sure which)
and I'm sure the fish can
see as much of me as I can of them;
if they did, they'd realize
the unfair trade of some air
bubbles for an old boot—tin can
with garrote edges.

what would be fair is if
they grew thumbs
and threw stones as we craned
our stupid necks over the water
or to settle the score for all,
come onto the shore,
pollute the land,
and destroy our way of life.

I don't think humankind could
even cope with something like that—

it's a good thing
we're already so responsible
with what we have.