I'm weird about origami.

I only do it on rare occations,
I need a book to give me instruction.
I always have to make the most
Precise folds.
And no matter how precise they are,
They're still crooked.
I'm making a goldfish
And listening to some love song
And this guy "can't let go,"
And I'm folding a goldfish.
I press down the folds of his torso,
If fish have torsos,
And tuck in little edges
Like paper bedtime.
And his voice is smooth and mellow
As he sings a second love song
That reminds me of the first.
I fold and refold,
Press down creases with my fingernail.
My instructions tell me to fold sloping edges,
I obey.
Tricky fold,
Crease,
Unfold.
Steady rhythm,
He still sounds the same.
All five of his songs I listened to sound the same.
"Lift both flaps at right angles,"
I struggle.
I blow into it gently, I blow into it roughly,
Finally opened up.
Fixed his tail, done.
He's okay, considering how
I can't blow into paper well.
Kind of deflated, but okay.

I'm weird about origami,
I use my book that
Came with the patterned paper,
And now I have a sad-looking goldfish.
A red print covered in dragons and clouds,
That's my goldfish.

Vacation's almost over,
I make origami.