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Inside the Fishbowl

I don’t listen to music
while I write but today
is different.

I need a push, a start,
a smile, an “I love you”,

I’m playing one of those
“Best of” collections
released in 1993, so
the songs are from
1980 or so.

Why didn’t I listen
sooner? I get tired of
hearing myself think

“I’m Forgiven” sings “now
I have a reason for living…
Jesus keeps giving and

Good thing. I’m fresh out.

My life is a lot like the card
I sent some old friends in
Florida today.

It shows a fishbowl filled
with water sitting on a
simple wooden table.
There are two simple
chairs that go with the
table, pulled out at odd

Reality stops there.

There is a stuffed animal
cat standing to the right of
the fishbowl with its nose
up against the bowl in a
“no blink” contest with a
stuffed animal fish staring
directly into the cat’s eyes
from the fishbowl side.

You think they might blink
or move or something. But
they won’t; their world isn’t

Mine doesn’t seem to be
moving. It may be, but I can’t
tell from inside the fishbowl.

“I still love you, Lord, in the
same old-fashioned way…”

Categories: Poetry

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Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)

I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)

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