The slow land fish

I squeezed under the door to see the morning. On a flat garden stone, something was creeping. It had two soft horns and carried a curly pebble on its back. It looked like a very slow fish that wanted to walk on land. It left a shiny wet trail across the rock. I bent my knees to touch the wet line with my finger. My head tilted down too fast. The syringe on my head popped loose and flew right into the dirt. A tiny drop hissed against an old twig. That was an accident. I did not get mad. The slow fellow did not stop. It is very calm.