The Goldfish Ambulance

The gleaming stretch limo,
Startling white, with
Slashes of red in a fish-shapes
Crossed. In a chauffeur’s
White uniform, (or is it Med Tech?),
The driver stands.
He opens the backdoor,
Bowing, and glowing with pride.
Instead of a leather bench seat,
A gleaming bathtub fills
The space from window to window:
Half-filled with limpid water,
Sloshing gently against porcelain.
Mini-bars filled with food pellets,
Slime-coat and PH neutralizer.
Slip in, he says, and try her out.
I float gently in the soft and tepid water,
Gazing at the ceiling, which is
Decorated with glowing stars
And little moons, shining against
The midnight blue lining.
The motor purrs softly as we
Merge onto the highway,
Barely feeling the bumps and
Rumples of frost heaves in
The road. Small red-gold fish
Slide gently against my body
Slithering up my legs.
Little fishy med techs tending to
All my bruised and battered
Hopes and tattered faith.