Monday, September 15, 2008

The Aquarium (obs.) & (p.)

(?) 2007

Relaxedly lost. Bad reception here, won't
find them unless they cross my path.

The fish are small. Smaller than at the Boston Aquarium, anyway.

They won't let us see the belugas.
The seahorses are magical floating
creatures with genius propellers. There are
gallons and gallons of water, and it
is all dirty and kept indoors.

I am sleepy, I want a nap or a
fall navy coat, either one.
However, not much chance of either.
Why do people need popcorn to ogle at the fish?

Idiots. I am sleepy, I am content.
In the heat and the cool of
the water-bag aquarium, I am content.

The Aquarium (p.)

I take your open mouth as ignorance.
We stand off,
I with my sword of fly-fish
and you, with your turtle-shield.
We were always equals,
we always matched our clown stripes.
We fought strike for strike,
I swam to hug the glass with feeble fish-arms
not the shape of my purpose.
Thievery stole my heart and
left my conscience,
like an open-brained lobotomy,
for you to devour.
In retaliation I bit off your tail
and from that day you
forever wore an expression
of goodwill.

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