The poem opens with a small, strange picture: fish gazing at fish. Each one is looking at another, yet nothing seems to pass between them. The title, "Fishbowl," suggests a closed, see-through world where everyone is visible but no one is really reached.
Then comes a question: who is absent, and who is present? It's a good one, because a person can be in a room and still be somewhere else entirely. Being near someone isn't the same as being with them.
The last lines turn from fish to people. The speaker reflects on how sadly a man can end up paying for company with drinks, just so someone will sit beside him. The word "unhappily" gives the tone away. There's pity here, and maybe some recognition, rather than scorn.
The mood is quiet, wistful and a little bleak. The poem is short and spare, and that helps: it leaves a gap, like the glass itself, between people who can see each other but can't quite connect.