A Fishbowl for a Television by Aaron Wiegert

They wouldn’t know me from Adam
He often thought, he had a fishbowl for a television.
I smoked three cigarettes today, he told them
Their food reminded him of ash,
It gave him something to look forward to

They were lucky, they didn’t have to rush
Through their crowded castle to work
All day under plastic plants, practically dinosaurs
They sloshed along the shark-whipped tail
Of black water, they preferred corral-colored pebbles

He told himself, on his way to the pet store
He drove between the dotted lines
But a dump truck kicked up a rock
That struck his windshield like a pellet,
Inside the fishwater smelled shameful
And he bought a soda on impulse

Back at home he climbed the stairs
To his aquarium where he tapped the glass
To confirm that it wasn’t a television,
They wouldn’t know me from Adam
He thought, and lit a cigarette or fed them.