neon tetra

i am a plastic bag of
neon tetra

10 or 12 all 
darting between 
each other

glass house world

this is the car ride
home from the pet store

waiting on
the knees of bigger
humans

a little girl with
freckles scattered
like strawberry seeds
in her cheeks

she has thick fingers
that rings never fit on

walking in the grass 
on the way home last night
there was just one
dandelion

white headed 

my great sitting
a row in front of us 
at church

i blow her head 
to make a wish but not
all her hair comes off

& the remaining 
seeds i peel off with my
thumb & index finger
before crossing
main street

a sudden loss of gravity

& she's un-doing
the neck of the plastic bag 

what is the difference
between clear air & water?

the sky making soup
of itself

condensed in the rear view 
mirror with chicken & stars

i think dandelions 
were made so that you
can't ever really blow
off all the seeds

emptying my lungs

plastic bags in my chest
to be filled with more
goldfish

i liked my pet neon tetras
because they glowed
like the sign in
the beer store window

where my father &
i listened to each other
like bottle caps

i am dispersing

swimming out the window
of the car as it 
turns into glass on
the high way

break green bottle
on asphalt & don't
wear bare feet anymore

blue light hips
like cop car sirens
only intended on
floating

i can't keep track of
myself anymore

all my gossamer fins

i'm visited by
the ghosts of every dandelion 
seed i ever exhaled

they ask why they were
born & if they were
mistakes 

& i tell them that
i don't think that 
there is such a thing
as good intentions

i kneel with
them to plant myself

the earth is cool
& still getting over 
january

fish eyes freezing
like grapes 

like eight balls rolling

down the pavement 

oh she's growing
a face of berries 

breaking the skin 

she'll probably attract
flies if not boys [even worse]

i tell the dandelions
that i don't actually
remember what i wished for

& they weepy thunder

we're back at our
house on noble street
as a storm breaks 

& we all rush upstairs 
to close the windows 
in all the rooms before
the rain fills the house
like a plastic bag

those aren't raindrops 

those are the bodies
of neon tetra

a eerie glow congregating 
against the mesh screens

i step out onto
the porch to find that
everything is
in fact water

disseminating 

fingers

break off like 
kit kats 

bones clattering 
on the cement 

snapped wind chimes

all that's left of
me is swimming 
between lightning bolts
& dandelion seeds

don't try to catch me

fill the bag with
water at the window

find new fish &
give them the same names