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.
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?