The Day My Goldfish Died
Dawg
I’m feeling uninspired.
Sublime yet mundane.
Nothing left to tweet about —
everything’s the same.
I wish I had more to share,
something to make you laugh or cry,
but the only news worth reporting today
is my goldfish’s demise.
Don’t tell me it can’t happen.
It’s all crystal clear.
When I left, he was in his bowl.
Came back, and he wasn’t there.
He’s on the floor beside me now,
growing kind of stiff.
The dog came by to investigate
but left with just one sniff.
I should probably tend to him,
but the hour’s growing late,
and I’ve always had a gift
for putting things off till the last possible date.
So instead I’ll just sit here
and wonder why he was so rash —
what possessed him to leap like that,
what went through his mind as he crashed.
I didn’t think he was depressive.
I guess I missed the signs.
So I’ll sit here and write this bit
about the day my goldfish died.