don’t name goldfish

Goldfish were my Valentine’s day request

No roses please

They just don’t last

12 followed Lan home from Walmart

One already floating listlessly in the goldfish sachs

From the treacherous 3 block drive

(Kenneth scandalously fished them out of store tanks, no one would help them)

I proclaimed the floater, Otis.

My loud voice echoing along plastered walls

Making crowded fish in the bag flutter.

 

‘Do not name goldfish’

The Boys cried in unison.

There’s no future in it.

(you know goldfish only have an IQ of 3)

Wait at least until tomorrow.

I feared a massacre in their tiny glass cage.

But, still, named Floyd the Barber with a long flowing tail

And Barney the Betta.

Ernest T Bass has a fine black mohawk.

But he’s a bully.

I am considering putting him alone in a teacup

Already, they follow me as I walk around rooms

Goddess of Flakes

I click and whistle when it’s feeding time.

Their feeding  frenzy antics simultaneously

amuse and calm me.

Nevertheless.

Goldfish swim in the same water they poo in.

they die in clear, clean water

Kenneth says they have to cover foreign objects with their slime

so disaster is imminent.

 

tank water was so cloudy this morning

discount store filter stopped working

Otis died for reals.

 

Ernest ain’t looking too great

Aunt Bee has a damaged fin

Opie hides, buried in the rocks.

Still. others rush madly to greet

The Goddess of Flakes.

Do  my Tiny lives matter?

 

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