Flying Paper Fish
On the second floor of the antique store
hung the flying paper fish
Staring out of the lead glass window
just wishing for a wish.
If only one soul would catch him sailing
eyes upon the street cars passing
to wish their secret dreams come true
tail to the wind, glass sweet smashing
he’d race the sunbeam through.
Like bright comets caught in drama
swirling toward their unknown trauma
the flying paper fish would sail
above the crowds in glory .
On the wind like a parade of dragons
in a Chinese new year passing
Aqua eyes and fins entrancing
fifty million wishes granting.
A moment to be free
of this hollow, dusty, antiquity
Life blown down his spine
The flying paper fish’s wish?
Thirty dollars, and he’s mine...
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