Fish Are Named

Fish are named Lazarus and Carl Jung they swim in the library, art studio, that spare room where I write, paint. Their eyes are the size of their stomachs. They mouth dreams in silence behind glass. I stare back, envious of graceful slow motion angel gills immersed in a tank of tears gathered from heaven, capped by corporations, lugged home from the Dollar Store to keep the tank full…. On the other side a breeze streams over book shelves, antique typewriters, canvas and paint. Lazarus and Carl watch me write, brush colors and nap... turn, twist, snore, dream, dream more…. surreal, real, really you? here in the deep? Oh lovely waves of sleep. So many fish in this sea, oh, oh, yes, yes, you, you, you …with me. You, evaporate. Eyes open empty and starved. Lips spit at the sunrise as it blinds, blocks out infinite oceans of you.