a poem for nietzsche/freud/taco

there is on my counter a dead fish.
a decaying fish.
this nameless fish with so many names
has gilled in his last gill-fulls of water.
fish.
taco.
nietzsche.
tony.
i don't remember his other names, but everyone had a name for him.
he was a different fish to everyone who met him.
nietzsche to me, taco to his owner.
pluralism lives.
he is dead but we cannot let him go.