"They don't come to the glass
when the people aren't here",
the woman tells us.
But we are here,
and they are entranced.
It is odd
to be watched,
acknowledged.

They are expectant,
swimming in our reflections.
The rays,
back and forth and eager;
sharks, watchful and aloof;
a cleaner wrasse,
distracted from his task -
they hang there
in mastery
of their medium

A shoal
of unanswerable questions,
still watching
as we shuffle off,
dumbfounded.