Bay watch: Olympic sailing's troubled waters

It sure looks nice but who can tell

On Guanabara Bay?

Waters glisten and sailboats glide,

And so it's hard to say.

The mountains rise, the clouds hang low

Across a blue-gray sky

While cable cars to Sugarloaf

Are slowly riding by.

It all rests easy on the eyes -

Of that, there's no dispute.

There clearly seems no need to don

A high-tech hazmat suit.

No trash befouls the gentle waves,

No stench assaults the nose.

The smell is one that's of the sea

If not quite like a rose.

The water's free of furniture

And fish too ill to swim.

No mattresses, no carcasses,

No disconnected limb.

But microbes lurk, and all is not

What it appears to be.

For the devil's in the details

And in the deep blue sea.

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