Tabula Rasa

It swam past the faux seaweed and the faux coral and the faux deep sea diver and he wondered if it knew it was in a tank in a second rate doctors surgery in this second rate town. He wondered if it would care. Perhaps it had dreams of being in some enormous tank in some big shot executives office on the 47th floor of some Manhattan high-rise. He wondered if this fish dreamt of being let loose in the ocean, or perhaps he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn’t know what to do if he was set free. The fish swam past him lazily. He lay face down over the side of the pier watching them shimmer gracefully beneath him. He wondered why you never saw fish bumping into one another. He could feel the salt water dry on his skin under the hot sun, making it feel tight and uncomfortable, but he wanted to see the jellyfish again that he saw yesterday so he lay there as the old rotted wood pushed uncomfortably into his chest. The fish swam past him lazily. His heavy head swayed uncomfortably on his neck as it might do if he was living underwater like the fish that was swimming in front of him with its big eyes watching him greedily but he knew he had to keep watching it or it would start eating his fingers and he needed them to write that essay later that was due on Tuesday but it was only Saturday now and he was at her house but this stuff was really strong and he started to feel uncomfortable watching the fish swim into her gaping wet mouth as she laughed and laughed and laughed and he wondered what she looked like naked. The fish swam past him lazily. His body was face down in the icy stream that cut across the lush meadow. His body was pale and his extremities were tinged with blue. His spirit lingered, watching the fish watch his body. It swam close then swam away before turning around and swimming close again, like it was plucking up the courage to remind the boy that his place was on the land and whilst he didn’t mind if he visited now and again, this was really too much. He swam past the fish lazily. He was a strong swimmer and he had a good set of lungs so he was lackadaisical in his underwater strokes. Watching the fish watch him watch them, enjoying the way he could make them scurry for cover, even though he was an imposter in their world. He loved feeling his powerful arms carve through the water and thought that if anyone was watching him they would comment on his remarkably good technique even though he had never had any training. He turned over and looked up at the sky, thinking about the fish in the enormous fish tank in his office on the 47th floor of a Manhattan high-rise.