If I were to live my life 

in catfish forms

in scaffolds of skin and whiskers 

at the bottom of a pond 

and you were to come by 

   one evening

when the moon was shining 

down into my dark home 

and stand there at the edge 

   of my affection

and think, "It's beautiful 

here by this pond.  I wish 

   somebody loved me,"

I'd love you and be your catfish 

friend and drive such lonely 

thoughts from your mind 

and suddenly you would be

   at peace,

and ask yourself, "I wonder 

if there are any catfish 

in this pond?  It seems like 

a perfect place for them."