The Boys

I miss
Spike and Wally,
the fish I named when
we brought them home from
the pet store
after the first seven
died.
I held the bag so
tightly
in the car
on the way home,
guarding it as though
those little fellows were
my own reputation.
I remember
greeting them
several times a week,
tapping my index finger
on the outside
of the tank
in our own secret
Morse code.
Fish are fragile,
like friendships.
They never prepare you for
the end,
but decide to
call it a day
during a walk with the dog or
a lazy Sunday afternoon
nap.

© 2005 Amy E. Hall