#him Too? Or The Drowning Femenist Poem by David Welch

Dylan Carston was a well-off young man,
thanks to a large and health trust fund,
his father was a true Wall Street ace
and had been quite generous to his sons.

Dylan had set himself up in Miami
after years spent getting his MBA,
he did consulting four days every week,
the other three he did like to play.

He'd partied with friends at all the bars,
and had his share of hot one-night stands,
not yet had he thought of a wife and kids,
he was enjoying the life of a young man.

One Saturday as he walked down the beach
to get exercise and breath the sea air,
he stumbled upon a frantic woman
calling for him to go over there.

As he drew near he saw down in the sand
a young woman who's face had gone blue,
he could see no lifeguard near where they were,
but fortunately he knew what to do.

He found no pulse when he listened close,
and placed two hands high on her left breast,
with hard compression he began CPR,
pumping furiously at her chest.

Every so often he placed his mouth on hers
and forced oxygen deep into her lungs,
the other woman ran off to find more help
while Dylan continued the rhythmic pump.

Finally after three desperate minutes
a gurgled rasp echoed up from her throat,
life returned to her, the blue fading out,
though her eyes still knew not where to go.

Moments later he heard the rush of feat,
the lifeguard and the woman had returned,
Dylan gestured to where the girl lay,
"I brought her back, now I think it's your turn."

The lifeguard thanked him for taking action,
then knelt down slowly at the victim's side,
ambulances came, reports were fill out,
when Dylan left three hours had gone by.

He felt good about saving the woman's life,
it was a moment he would not forget,
congratulations came in, on top of that
the lifeguards sent him a certificate.

Three weeks went by and Dylan returned to
the safe routines of the everyday world,
and bit by bit his thoughts turned away
from the near death of that helpless girl.

So it was with a great deal of surprise
when a process server told him these words:
"Dylan Carston, you're being sued for assault,
you can consider yourself dully served."

Dylan's mind whirled at the accusation,
he had no idea how this could be true?
Had some ex regretted their time and cried ‘rape, '
were they evil enough to go down that route?

He flipped through the paper he'd bee given,
And saw the name ‘Ms. Karen Mallory, '
his mind reeled again, incredulous,
that was the girl he had saved by the sea!

Soon enough he was dragged into a court
and Ms. Mallory did loudly attest
that without consent he had kissed her,
and pawed like a pervert at her breasts!

His lawyer counter, "Consent can't be given
when a person is hurt and unconscious, "
that nothing he did be called sexual,
and that a good soul could do nothing less.

Mallory's activist lawyer shot back,
"Maybe she would have preferred a death
to knowing that she was violated,
forced to breath in a molestor's breath."

She prattled about body sanctity,
how even frantic times did no excuse men
from shamelessly groping defenseless girls
who were not able to give their consent.

Dylan rolled his eyes so many times
that he though they'd fall out of his head,
he'd known Feminazis could be extreme
but this pair was functionally brain-dead!

He expected most folks would see the truth
and recognize that he'd done a good deed,
nut one day a friend sent him a link
and told Dylan it was something to read.

He gaped as he read a professor's rant,
filled with reasoning utterly absurd,
claiming that death did not justify ‘groping, '
never had he seen such nonsense words.

Then the many ‘minds' on the internet
all chimed in with their digital voice,
half said that he was a would-be rapist
that unconscious girls could not avoid!

Then the media latched onto it,
made it their outrage-scandal of the week,
with people declaring ‘unconscious consent'
as a dark too of ‘The Patriarchy.'

And of course his boss feared the attention
so Dylan was quickly drummed out of his job,
for trying to step up and do the right thing
of a living he'd wrongly been robbed.

Inside the court they pointed to wild nights
to try to smear him with misogyny
regardless of the fact that his night life
had nothing to do with events on the beach!

In the end, at least, the jury chose right
and saw his actions for just what they were,
still the media called it travesty,
an ‘act of oppression' against her.

As he walked out a reporter pressed close,
said, "Can you tell me what you learned inside? "
"Yes, next time you see a feminazi drown,
you'd be better off just letting her die."