Aug 30, 2021

the feel of the world under me


Raising his head above the water,
the old fish said to me,
"I must have crossed this cold sea
A thousand times already. It’s work.
Working and drinking.
Working and drinking.
Working and drinking.
It’s easy to get caught up in that harsh cycle,
And there is no real satisfaction in it,
No peace.
I’m thirsty for dry land, for the feel
Of the world under me.
If want to trade these tired fins
For the arms and legs of a true human being.
Oh, to have opposable thumbs
And a measure of peace."
I walked away from the shore.
I can't give him the kind of help he wants,
And it's pointless to try to reason with a fish.


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