Across the bay off Mount Desert Island, or at Cross Island, or in Blue Hill Bay, anywhere at all beyond dehydration, beyond cholera, beyond mountains, oxygen thinning, slipping through the gills of caged salmon. Song flat as up-staring flounder. Grouper, snapper, tuna, shark, swordfish, penaeid shrimp, stone crab, blue crab, golden crab, oyster, calico scallop, clam. There’s WhaleNet and the size of tilapia. Indian carp and milk fish. The oldest men at Cedar Key sitting on a sea-log bench, that twinkle in their eyes. Listen to their breathing. Shout your name.