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Poem

He was a fish that wanted to be caught
(not so odd really).
His lips were new tires, they squeaked,
you could hear them coming
they flapped in the mildest of winds.
Some had Googled his eyes
turns out
they were set too deeply into his brain,
you could read them
like the sun and rain on a cloudy day.
He once touched gloves
with a ‘has been’ and lost.
The girls loved to be with him
but he could not love them
until he was wriggling on their hooks.
In the end it was his looks
that offended, they upended the nature
of the natural and so naturally
he was always being thrown back in,
back into his own shallow pool
of mind-muddied waters.

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