The Goldfish Floats by Ted Kooser
The goldfish floats to the top of its life and turns over
A shaving from somebody's hobby.
So it is that men die at the whims of great companies
Their neckties pulling them speechless into machines,
Their wives finding them slumped in the shower,
Their hearts burst open like boiler doors.
At night, again and again,
These men float to the tops of their dreams
Only to be pulled back to their desks in the morning.
If you ask them, they all would prefer to have died in their sleep.
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