goldfish

The bowl on my shelf holds a goldfish
Who has sparkling scales

“Sir, what do you see” I asked
The goldfish whispers to me
“You,”
My golden carp saw me
“You
The fish whispered
“Are beautiful, you feed me each day.”

“Why does that make me beautiful”
The sparkling fish
Smiled
“You feed me each day, this is true
Is that not beautiful?”

It is better that it is true, fish
It’s meaningless that there is beauty

“It is both beautiful and true,
There would not be one without the other”
The fish looked at me through its distorted glass
There was truth

“But is it better?”

The fish replied with a scornful bubble
“Why must you ask, what is better?”