Next time,
feel free to notify me
if you feel the wet gasping fish-like writhing of my emotions
leave you cold and unmoved.
If my weak flounderings find you wishing you had a bucket of brine
to flip me into.
I exposed the pink of my gills,
and suddenly found myself listening for the carny music
as I sit here like some strange fish-girl.
I don’t wear this form well.
I’ll be standing up now.
Hand me that towel as you leave.
So I can pat dry these last stains of sentiment
before I catch cold.
Don’t be surprised at the sudden transformation.
We all have to grow legs sometime.
Its okay.
I blame myself.
I wished to plunge into your depths
but instead found a shallow pool,
with little more than the odd tadpole
swimming in the algae.
My nose is a little bruised from the impact,
but the concussion is negligible.
And the prognosis is very, very hopeful.
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