an interview with a trout. aka ode to Paul Éluard
"its late"
said the trout swimming in slowly concentric ovals in its turquoise bathtub, not filled to the brim, but deep enough for the spotted fish with flashings of oil slick on its flanks to feel safe. the wood patterned Formica complimented the bathroom with the matching turquoise toilet with the black plastic seat and white dusty residue over the sink.
"well, ask me then"
the trout keeps swimming, not stopping to look or act in any anthropomorphic manner. kneeling down you read the fish moving on its path around or in loops.
"why a trout , of all things he could of wrote, why a trout? why not a wing of a plane or a child's tooth Edward of the confessor or the Dominican republic. out of all of things that can be imagined the why put time into this small brown fish, who does he think he is??"
while watching the fish swim up and down its stretch of water, you notice your self being watched, you turn quickly and catch the sight of a horse retreating down a set of stairs, you get up off your knees your bare feet padding against the floor. its dark outside, the lights cause reflections in the night filled windows. you leave the bathroom wanting to follow the horse, the fish voice calls out.
"Qui a votre visage?"
you turn and start to watch your feet gallop down the stairs as you descend, and open the portal to the house to the night, you stand in the dark calling to the horse with your sphinx voice.
said the trout swimming in slowly concentric ovals in its turquoise bathtub, not filled to the brim, but deep enough for the spotted fish with flashings of oil slick on its flanks to feel safe. the wood patterned Formica complimented the bathroom with the matching turquoise toilet with the black plastic seat and white dusty residue over the sink.
"well, ask me then"
the trout keeps swimming, not stopping to look or act in any anthropomorphic manner. kneeling down you read the fish moving on its path around or in loops.
"why a trout , of all things he could of wrote, why a trout? why not a wing of a plane or a child's tooth Edward of the confessor or the Dominican republic. out of all of things that can be imagined the why put time into this small brown fish, who does he think he is??"
while watching the fish swim up and down its stretch of water, you notice your self being watched, you turn quickly and catch the sight of a horse retreating down a set of stairs, you get up off your knees your bare feet padding against the floor. its dark outside, the lights cause reflections in the night filled windows. you leave the bathroom wanting to follow the horse, the fish voice calls out.
"Qui a votre visage?"
you turn and start to watch your feet gallop down the stairs as you descend, and open the portal to the house to the night, you stand in the dark calling to the horse with your sphinx voice.
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