THE EEL When does a fish Not resemble a fish? When it's an Eel, Bereft of spines and ordinary fins, Only retaining gills to keep its place In the ranks of its water-breathing race. When do we not resemble ourselves? When impulsive words and actions Betray our normal character. And so we say: "I didn't mean what I said," "I didn't mean what I did," "I was just feeling tired," "I was just feeling sick," "I was feeling stressed," "I was over excited," "I wasn't thinking," "I was half-asleep," "I was just upset," "I was drunk," "I was angry," "I had too much on my mind." Excuses, Excuses. Deny what we wish, We stay true to ourselves Just like an Eel is still a fish. THE MUDSUCKER The Mudsucker is a bellyfish, Squirming its scaly underside through dregs Accumulated on the slimy ocen floor, Stirring up clouds Of sedimentary muck, Gulping its fill of the awful swill. A scavenger too foul to keep, So fishermen are quick To rid their nets Of these disgusting pests, Flinging to rapacious gulls Food for the unfussy but not for us Who'd gag at eating refuse so extreme. Until one day, When other stocks ran low, We recognized what was a waste And changed its name to suit our taste: "The BELANON is very nice -- Served in a saffron sauce on rice." Which makes one wonder The worst way to be caught: Being scorned and thrown away, Or being prized and highly sought?