When Walking Alone At Night

Don't you wish
that you could feel safe
in the jaws of a shark
and brave a stroll through
the fantasy of his teeth,
your footsteps echoing
in his cavernous maw?

Wouldn't you cherish the gall
to tread upon the plush canine tongue,
among frothy airstreams that tenderly
stir the pale gills above the spectacle

of his bowels, that
industrial belly where, inside
the poignancy of a tuna's rib cage,
a spectrum of pearls tap dances upon
a wilted license plate floor.

Would you pluck one from the revel
and wear it on a gossamer string?

Or would you abandon your vulnerable pretenses
and make of it your dance partner
in the routine of predation?