All of us are anxious to see
who will run in first,
kicking and screaming and splashing up the water.

A moment before the brave one starts,
with mouth open, waiting for a drink,
it stares at us with wide, unblinking eyes.

Stagnant, naked, and unabashed,
it's imperfections pronounced
loud and clear.

The scales slowly shrivel and flake,
yellows fade to greys as the odor grows to stench.
No one says a word, not even the girls.

Little lake wars tug lightly at its fins,
coaxing it back, regretting the absence it leaves.
It stubbornly stays on shore, sinking lower into the sand.

We decide not to kick or scream or splash,
but to quietly dig up the sand underneath,
giving the lake back it's old friend.

Goodbye, Stubborn Fish.