And the fish swim in the lake

and do not even own clothing.

–          Ezra Pound

What kind of clothes would they wear,
the little fishes of the lake?
Would they collect tiny pebbles in their pockets
or carry extra scales for when their own float off?
Would the big ones strap on large, artificial fins
to play shark games along the shore?
Would they wear mittens to ward off winter’s chill,
and ball caps to block the summer sun?
Would they be modest? Would they be vain?
Would they admire the fishery tags and hope
to one day score a piercing of their own?
Would they worry that their tails are looking fat?

 
© 2014 Brian Garrison
Image “goldfish” © Flickr user

Brian Garrison pens poems on receipts while driving, types them into his fancy phone (not while driving), scrawls them on whatever scraps of paper he can grasp in his dark bedroom, and once tried writing on the steamy shower door. If you search near Rochester, NY, you may find some of the words that got away from him. He runs errands for the poetry journal, Parody. www.parodypoetry.com