Aquarium

The entire tank is engulfed in darkness.  Suddenly, a tentacle darts out of hiding and smashes up against the thick glass.  Its suction cups, pulsating to some unknown rhythm, glue the octopus in place.  The tentacles are moving towards each other but at the same time moving apart.  Eight sinewy arms are ebbing and flowing around anemones, urchins and sea stars.  The octopus is just one slice of the ecosystem that lies behind the barrier of glass.  Each living creature is dependent on another in the constructed habitat of the aquarium.  Carefully placed underwater plants and porous rocks are still even when water rushes around them.  A yellow cube lies in the corner, with cutouts of stars and hearts.  It does not belong, but then the octopus scoops it up with a tentacle and it disappears in the cluster of tentacles.  In this tank, the flora and fauna are also dependent on their human caretakers for food and for fun.  I watch the yellow cube drift to the floor and land in the sand.  The octopus slides back into its hiding place and one tentacle peeks out from around the edge of the tank.  It is like a curious child, moving in and out of view and trying to catch a glimpse of the world beyond the glass wall.  The toys of the octopus are even reminiscent of a child’s play pen.  Except in this case, the child will never grow up and never escape the watchful eyes of its parents.