forty-two years ago a gaudy tropical fish/was flipped by a net akin to a flyswatter/into a saltwater aquarium

to the human watching the fish looked stunned/paralyzed/it did not move so much as a fin

long minutes went by/and at last the fish stirred

stirred as if it were a spoon/handled by a sleepy someone in no hurry/and it made a slow tight circle/around the spot where it had been dropped

and over many more minutes/the slow circles the fish made widened/as if it were tracking the spiral/of an impossible small galaxy/from its core to its outskirts

and eventually it skirted an edge of the tank

and it changed course and started to explore/nosing into and around a loose web/of coral skeleton/and nodding at the fake miniature deep-sea diver

and in not long/it acted as if it were home

i was the watching human/and forty-two years later the memory of that fish/sprang into my thoughts

i was remembering yesterday/being at the potter’s wheel/at a studio open to the public/and an interesting woman i had met some months ago/younger than i but probably by less than a decade/came up to me and asked me what i was making

and i glanced up at her/and felt some voltage of attraction

and my eyes went back to my hands/and i told her that i was throwing off the hump/making bases that would keep the mugs i would later make/a little bit up from the surface/so less heat would dissipate

she was friendly and nice/and i imagined having coffee with her/but the voltage started coming up again

so i kept my eyes on my hands/and after a little more nice chatting/she sensed my shyness/and left me to my work

now i realize how much i am just like that longago fish/and how in a new interactive situation/i start stunned/and must proceed with caution

but the fish/wiser than i/learned to gain familiarity/to liberate itself/to relax

i hope i see her again