The lake’s gone feral, its fur slicked in hackles as it slams against the shore, eating the beaches, finding faults in concrete. The water is rising. And the sky’s gray lid seems to shudder against it, like the lid of a pot on the boil. People in brown studies pose against the dark baize of the grass; two girls perch on the rocks serenaded by anonymous pop from a tinny speaker. University cops pace in their sinister SUVs along paths intended for pedestrians. Trees hold their breath. The lake cries out, I wish I were a sea. And it is.