Tired from breathing

The gunk they pump perpetually,

From pipes on the shore,

Making the water feel deeper and darker,

An old war horse

Tethers himself to a floating Q-tip,

And gives passer-by's an earful.

"The one finned clown fish

Passed away

The other day,

Poor little thing.

Couldn't swim fast enough!

The plastic jellyfish

Sucked his air away

As it wrapped around

And strangled his gills,"

He rambles a little,

As the old are prone to do,

Hooked on escaping anecdotes.

"I wonder is the air clear

Up there,

Where the fishing monkeys live?

Or are their little ones

Choking a little too?

Their pirate parents,

Stuffing their treasure chests,

Ignorant of the damage they do."