Dusti Rodes

2014-03-04 12:00 am

Feeding Fish

 Standing somewhere,
 Feeding fish.
 Fairground freaks,
 Probably won't last
 Two weeks.
 A memory span
 Of less than seven seconds
 Or so they reckon.

 Why do they call them goldfish?
 When one is orange,
 And the other is brown;
 Swimming up and down,
 Around and around;
 As though their lives
 Depended on it,
 As it does.

 What have we got in common?
 I ask myself.

 Standing somewhere,
 Feeding fish.
 Fairground freaks,
 Probably won't last
 Two weeks.
 A memory span
 Of less than seven seconds
 Or so they reckon.

 Why do they call them goldfish?
 When one is orange,
 The other is brown;
 Swimming up and down,
 Around and around;
 As though their lives
 Depended on it,
 As it does.

 Dusti Rodes (2011)