Fishhhhh

Why do fish have faces? Not a word has ever passed the lips of a fish. Not even an ‘It’s lovely once you’re in!’

Fishlips have never blown a kiss or shaped a smile. How can a fish show another its love when all it can do is bog and beg a silent ‘But I love you, always have, ever since the rapids’. They have neither eyebrows to frown, nor noses to wrinkle or even cheeks to puff in resignation. All they do is stare.

Imagine yourself floating weightless above the deep dark pool of a river that has stilled itself by a stone bridge. Mayflies caught in the summer sun dance about hissing reeds and a tractor chugs some way off. Ever so slowly you descend. The warm sun is replaced by the cool shadow of the bridge as you near the pool. The strange gloopy echo of the river under the bridge sends a shiver just before the cool water licks your cheek.

Then you are deep under. The surface seems way away, left behind. You blink in the silence to accustom your eyes, and are still…

What you fucking bogging at fishface? Growl, shout ‘Hurrah!’,  do something you scaly fuck, but don’t just stare there. And you’re not the only one, there’s loads of you. Staring. It’s as if, cracking jokes just a second ago, you’re all pretending nothing was going on. So passive aggressive. And you’re all facing in the same direction. What’s that about eh? It’s not as if you had a discussion on the matter. It makes for an uncomfortable feeling. Perhaps a million years of evolution has taught fish that the best reaction to any situation is to give nothing away. Don’t speak. Don’t smile. Don’t even blink. Keep your wisdom to yourself and watch everything else fritter theirs away. There's strength in silence.

Perhaps when we’ve drawn our last drop of oil, cut the last tree and pressed the last button, perhaps then the fish will speak.