Christopher
I bought a Betta fish last week.
I named him Christopher, and I picked him out
Because he was white and pale grey.
But when I brought him home and put him in his new warm tank,
He erupted in reds and purples and blues over the next three days.
I never would have guessed.
Christopher often watches me
Working in the evenings, illuminated
By the light of my computer.
Sometimes I watch him too, and for a couple of quiet minutes
He flitters his tail and seems to have a curious smile on his face.
I think he and I are friends.
I gave Christopher a sandcastle.
It’s hollow and has a large front door,
Only he never swims inside.
He spends all day gazing in the fake plastic windows
Like an orphan watching crowds of happy people passing by.
I wonder what he sees?
I’d love to know what Christopher named
The giant, pink fish who lives across the glass
In the cold, airy tank.
Perhaps he’s just a fish and doesn’t think of me at all;
Never notices me staring out the windows of my studio,
Wishing we could talk.