Streams are warm and cold water rides; without those, there goes to die the variations of fish.

Lost, but without a clue
I’m thinking of
an overeaten rat
in a labyrinth
or a shark,
who wonders,
why he’s still swimming forward.
His organs would have had so much density,
his gills such a lack of oxygen,
he would drift up on his belly.
That’s funny,
that deep down he knows it well
but can never be asked to formulate it.