ex boyfriends
became goldfish
Janet Kuypers
2/25/16
I’ve always tried to care for others.
I don’t know, maybe that’s why
in my studio one room apartment
I kept a six inch snifter
for a pet goldfish or two.
Because really,
if I had to live in that small a place,
then so could a goldfish.
And since I like my liquor,
they could live in a big liquor glass,
what a bargain.
Since I had no money,
I’d go to the giant pet store
and splurge on twenty cent feeder fish
for pets.
And no, I wouldn’t get too close
with the fish, replaceable with a single coin...
But it would make me sad
when they died.
I brought them home to be with me,
I spared them the hunt
from a hungry predator.
I extended their lives.
I was trying to be noble.
But when I saw how cruel the world was,
and when I saw my replaceable fish die,
I decided
right then and there
to name my future fish
after ex boyfriends.
You know, just so,
when the time came,
I could say,
“Oh, Toby’s dead.” Flush.
“Oh, Bill’s dead.”
He was a fat fish. Flush.
“Oh, Steve’s dead.” Flush.
“Oh, Matt’s dead.”
You know, he was an angry fish.
Never seemed happy in that bowl.
Flush.
It may seem
a sad state
to use this
to cope with pain.
But this was my first chance
to be able to smile at death...
Its not like the fish ever cared.
And the exes ever knew.
|