He passed by the empty gold fish bowl full

of evaporated memories and

wasted wishes. His nose itched and he scratched

it with remnants of sensory distant jolts

of perfume…It was what she always wore.

The one who touched his lips with her grown-up thoughts.

The floor creaked and the flood-stained wood

seemed to remember his footprint. He wiped the cobweb

away from his Italian trousers and caught an eyeful

of jacks trapped behind the tired heater.

That’s when the tears of hunger filled his bottomless pit

of void and he yearned for one more glimpse of her

hearty laughter…but the silence was deafening.

His signature imprinted in his hand as he held the lease tightly.

As if he was trying to pull her above the roof and out of the water…

But he drowned in his hopefulness of restoration.

He turned to glance at the fishbowl once more and giggled

as he remembered how he and Sarah would laugh so hard

whenever they looked at the comic book and realized they got duped

Sea Monkeys lived as long as the Mardi Gras; a few good days, but...