Ode to My Fish

Ode to my Fish
By Nancy

My poor little fish,
Dead little fish
Sunk instead of floating
No more kissing
No more swimming
You don’t even have
The decency to float
You suck
I spent a dollar twenty nine
To get you
I took you home and fed you
And this is what you do to me
You died
You stink so bad
The other fish won’t even eat you
You are nothing but a bloated pus ball
Hope the dead do feel pain
So you can tell when you are flushed.


I haven't gone through all the issues yet, but I can safely say not one of the things we called odes was actually an ode. I have to say, I really like this one. It's a bold choice of subject. You don't get enough fish hate poetry these days. One thing that puzzles me, I don't remember Nancy having this fish, even though I was always at her house back them.