Little Fish.

Little golden fish swimming in fractals,
They know where they go,
Sometimes left, and sometimes right,
Never wrong,

Are they there to just look pretty?
Just for me to watch,
And wonder about what they think,
In their little nerve clusters?

I go left and right as well,
And I go wrong,
But I will never be as pretty,
Or impassive,

Their mouths keep moving soundlessly,
Great big gulps of nothing, over and over,
Just like people do,
Moving lips that never say a thing.