you were my girlfriend, then you weren’t, now you are again

it felt like it was made out of bodies

but really it was made out of language

illuminated in white fluorescent letters on a scoreboard

that kept a record of the words we used

the private language that accumulated between us

vulnerable

like a small goldfish in a plastic bag

left on a park bench

that accidentally rolled into the sewer

and drifted out to sea

a bag of fresh water and a fish in it

surrounded by an ocean

until the plastic gave way

and the fish escaped

and used its muscles to inhale through its gills

trying desperately to filter oxygen out of the salty water

eventually dying of a tiny heart attack

and all the while

making adorable splashing noises

 

 

This is the final of a three-part poetry series by Oscar Schwartz. Read part one and two. Image from Wikipedia.

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