On goldfish pond

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A surfacing goldfish unsettled the rafts of lily pads. Open mouthed, he gulped – “C’mon in!”

Tempted, my Barbie and I leaned over the still, black pond. Away he dove – a neon warning.

Reaching for gold, a body could drop into nothing forever.

25 thoughts on “On goldfish pond”

  5. I never cared much for dolls, for exactly the reason you say…My mother bought me one every Christmas (“There should be a doll under the tree”, but she had been poor as a child and was really buying me dolls for herself). The few dolls that were not babies, were the ones I made my friends—just as you say about Barbie. I told them stories and talked to them as my equals, all the time..never played at mothering. (The role of wife and mother was something I promised myself to avoid, given the models around me.) Yes, five brothers, and we lived upstairs from my father’s funeral home. Good training for a weirdo….or a poet…same difference.

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  6. It’s interesting….there was no Barbie when I was growing up, with my five brothers. My only sister came along when I was fifteen, and I left home when she was three years old. I don’t remember if she played with Barbie—so the Barbie phenomenon has always seemed strange to me, as I observe it from a distance.

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    • I grew up with Barbie. I never played with baby dolls as I found them incredibly dull. Who wants to pretend to change shitty diapers and cook dinner for daddy? Barbie and I had adventures and I told elaborate stories with her as my main character. She was an fabulous actress. So adaptable!

      FIVE brothers?! I’m speechless. That’s just a shocking amount of testosterone to endure.

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