Mid-Term Memory

Decidedly, without a doubt the ele-
phant within the fishbowl wanted out: not
because the curvature was cramped or that

the oxygen was scant—her snorkel took care
of that—and not because she was alone:
while dreams of pachyderms at home preoc-
cupied her most reflective hours, the tickle
of her funny bone was only sometimes dour:

the bowl was filled with someone else, a
goldfish swimming (as it were) ‘tween folds of flesh,
forgetting seconds past for present tasks and
minding business own against what fatso’d ask
which resonated thus: ‘Remind me, golden friend,
how came we to this end: my memory renowned
is worthless here, as nothing—see—is worth
remembering. How on earth do you go on?’

Said goldfish feint, without much thought:
‘I remember naught but how to eat—your trainers
call that instinct and I might stop at that, to
think through nothing else but what is here, not
to dwell on what is not. I get the umpteen
screeds on what-and-how I soon forget; if
so, I’d always never know I’m bound in glass…
alas, I always am—my seconds never pass.

I won’t and can’t recall your fate; I vaguely
know you don’t relate to this milieu. I feel
quite bad for you; if pity fades and flits I’m
glad you’re in it here, with me—or so I try to think.’
‘Don’t bother,’ elephant rejoined: her power
to objectively employ a reasonable riposte
was wrapped beyond a prayer to what she all-
too-clear remembered then and there:

The plummet in to present fate (tsunami years
ago) crushed goldy’s mate and stuffed the hole
that would have lured him to a senseless search,
a flip book look for what was lost, a blurred
and lurid chase: the elephant knew that
nothing old or no one new would matter here
and now. The pair was cut. A mutant mix—
Decidedly, a shared mnemonic shut.