Wallingford Front Porch/Late Afternoon

Hmmmmm,
While roaming this part of the fish tank
I run into some familiar sets o' fins n gills
getting really auntie ansty
bumping the glass border
between the possible
and the imagined.
Shite howdy.
Lookit the thousand league stare
on that guppy.
Tit's amost like he's grown lungs n legs
put on a moustached sweater
a stiff upper lip beret
n is sticking El Alamein
at the end of his first, middle and last.
Oh, O O O
says I.
'Cause I'm a Golden Champion-fish n that's what I do.
Some of the shiny things streaking through the water
turn out to be the omega to our alpha-spawn.
Hooked on a line
that becomes a sinker
that guppy's gonna squirm n squirm
cursing the grandma driver pace
of evolution.
I'm afraid he's gonna pass up
the occasional tasty flake
dropping to the bottom of the tank.
I'm afraid he's never gonna know
the mundane pleasure
of watching the plastic treasure chest
belch a school of bubbles.
I'm afraid he gonna squirm
and bump the tank's edge
for the rest of his swim
dreaming of landlubber empire.