I was looking at my fish today
And couldn't help but wonder
"Is he lonely?"

That's silly, of course,
Can fish even get lonely?
Sure, he's swimming in that huge tank,
Back and forth and back and forth
All hours of the day,
Entirely by himself,
His only company the algae hugging
The over sized and over-exaggerated rocks,
But can he be lonely?

Do fish have thoughts?
Does he swim back and forth
And back and forth
Wondering when the glass will tap
And flakes of food
Float down from some gleaming world above,
With nothing but fish-thoughts
Running through his fish brain,
Contemplating his existence:
Why is he here?
As a trophy?
As a center piece to give simple aesthetic to the room?
Is that all he is?
Aesthetic?

When he dies,
What will be remembered of him
Other than being flushed down into the sewers,
And replaced by yet another
Extremely unextraordinary fish?

But still, is he lonely?
Surely, as am I, he must be something,
Because maybe we are both here just for the aesthetic of being alive,
Swimming back and forth
And back and forth
With of fish thoughts
Waiting for nothing more than to be fed.