The scraggly kid poked his brain out the water at me, bobbing up and down in the murk green salty sea like a floaty barnacle. His swim trunks ballooned around like underwater rocket pants, and he bubble-barbled fishy pleases at me, who was Queen of the raft. There was a jellyfish dangling mournfully from the ropes held afloat with styrofoam that closed in the swimming section, one of its tentacles twisted up with some seaweed. I think it was half dead but still looked poisonous. When I let him up the ladder tiny shrimp sprung out his pockets like crickets and flap-danced painfully back to the ocean by the Ballad of the Whiskery Bug-Eyed Ballerinas.