Your world does not have four corners.
That's just silly. Yet, mine has eight.
Roll your eyes to the sky and there is the sun.
My sun is a lamp clamped precariously overhead.
Don't forget me.
Two dehydrated meals per day, like a
Prisoner—that's what I am, right?
Fill the bucket in the tub and waterboard me.
I look at you, smiling, I can't help it.
Don't forget me.
No one visits except the hounds and the toddlers
Who think I'm exotic. I'm African in breed only.
Found in a pond, packed in a box, plunged
In a tank. You loved me. That was six years ago.
Don't forget me.
Set me free. You won't. Let me die. You won't.
Then at least say hello from time to time. You won't.
I'm not really thinking this. This is you thinking
What you think I'm thinking. I'll tell you what I'm thinking.
Don't forget me.