Between Fish

So I'm thinking
not the word for fish
but the space between
fish. Ah... tricky. How to catch that
in words?

It exist.
I think.

Perhaps in haiku,
or as a saw for the ages?
A funky list
like the ingredients for Hawaiian Punch
as poem.

In the taste of a pear
strolling Ottawa's market
I almost have it
then lose it
to the coinless feel of my pockets.

Almost again in the weight
of my car keys,
then in the sounds
of waterstriders. Listen.

Between the silence of each step. Listen
for the sound between the fish
and the fish between the sound.
I think I'm almost

there until I see it on her face,
so clearly, on the train platform
and I
moving velocity in the other direction
watch it stretch away
like the end of any pleasure.

The space between fish - what would they call it?
I suppose I'd have to think like them
letting language slip away, moving
by my own accord. Heading

home.