A humorous prose poem about the difficulty of understanding the other in an intimate relationship.

I thought an aquarium would be a good idea. Rainbows moving back and forth before the picture window. Sprinkling in a little fish food and watching them purse their lips as if to kiss. What a way to spend the rest of my life. I didn't know she had a traumatic experience in college with “Prufrock,” that passage about the sea-girls at the end. They think we’re fish, she would say whenever we went to Benny’s. I never really thought that much about how angelfish inhabit a similar life space to the handcuffed crabs at Benny’s Baltimore Buffet. Anyway, I watch them – well, it’s really other them now (the tropical species don’t last long) – gliding through the failing light. The postman looking sadly through the window as he takes another letter.