Goldfish Obsession

It’s been a week since my goldfish died
and he’s still on the floor.
Not looking great. A little petrified.
I think I’ll leave him there a little more.

You could call me morbid.
I prefer lazy.
The trashcan’s way over there,
and he’s not hurting anyone
since the day he went crazy.

I couldn’t stuff him–he’s two inches long.
I don’t think he’d qualify as art.
So I’ll immortalize him in another song.
After all, this is the second part.

I’m not sure where he lost some scales.
He hasn’t moved a bit,
they just seemed to disappear.
At first I thought it was a little sick.
Now I’m obsessed
with the goldfish lying here.

I tried to counsel him once.
He never let on, though.
Never thought things like this
went through his head.
My poor depressed goldfish
just leapt out of his bowl,
and a week later
he’s still lying there.
Dead.

Maybe in a month I’ll write part three.
Not sure there’ll be much left of him by then.
One of those things
we’ll have to wait and see–
goldfish obsessed until the end.