Eyes turn to stare
At the new fish on the street
Dirty brown, ragged, dusty, filthy.
A perfect addition to their collection
In the tank.
Joining the ranks of four others,
A school, lined up in neat row.
Body after body after body after body after body
Resting on their tails – fish have no legs.
More eyes stare.
Their mouths open and close – but no one hears.
Fish make no noise.
Their eyes plead as yet another cent drops, more, more, they cry! – but
Fish have no choice.
Their scales flinch as a stray coin hits them – but no one cares.
Fish have no voice.
The water engulfs them,
Hundred pairs of huge eyes are magnified
Inspecting the fish.
A fish bubbles – his final one –
The reverie breaks, the other fish scatter,
And the people walk away to their lunches in fancy restaurants
Fish and chips, nicely buttered.