EULOGY FOR A FISH

c 1981 Tristan Winter

 

 

well, you know how it is. i come all this way, see, only to find that there’s nothing here. an old bordello perhaps, an imploded little room with a bed just big enough for me and a few other bugs, and a can of mackerel i smuggled along from parts unknown. people have gone nuts here. i can smell it in the walls. the walls. what the hell, I’ll just sing a lullaby to my tender little friends in the roll-top can and wait. yeah, you know how it is.