Shark

You, sir, are a shark.

Teeth sharp, wit to match, gleaming bright, entrancing,

mesmerizing the fish. I see you,

Shark.

Eyes narrowed, focused,

moving slowly with grace and impure intentions

like many men before you,

Shark.

Teeth sharp, wit to match, gleaming bright, entrancing,

mesmerizing every woman you smile at,

every stupid fish. You

Shark.

Eyes narrowed, focused,

watching from the edge of the tank,

like any intelligent woman. I, too, am

Shark.

You muster your guts

and feed through the fish to approach,

but that’s the thing about

Sharks.

They don’t mess with other

Sharks.

So you are either brave or stupid.

 

Or, god, I might be a fish.