My Attempt (Failure) at Seuss Style

A fish,
Without a dime,
Is forever making a wish,
Looking for that day in time.

The house is messy,
The grass is dry,
The people are plessy
And the TV has died.

The food is somewhat fair,
Even with the mold.
Though in the stinky air,
The mold will grow two-fold.

Tanks in the back screech,
Always sending out mud.
They have an unequal reach,
Even beating Air Bud.

The town is poor,
Like a hobo in the street.
The hobos suffered even more,
Some losing as much as their feet.

How is a fish supposed to live?
Their world has turned the reverse way around.
Should they hold onto that wish?
Or should they stay economically bound?