circling the store,
smelled blood
on my petticoat,
I flipped and flitted
about the shelves
as innocent,
as a clown fish
ignoring the looming shadow,
that smiled at me,
with hungry teeth,
you would look fantastic in tweed,
the shark-man said,
of course so would I,
he murmured,
looking longingly at the strip of
golden amber fabric,
I won't cat fight you for it,
I squeaked, spitting bubbles,
his eyes lit up,
but I will,
and he grinned,
showing me a cavern of white shards,
gleaming in the dark,
I reached out to take the fabric,
concerned the way his eyes unspun
the amber threads that formed around my chest,
but soon ignored, for the vest,
was an adjective on me.
I gleamed, a flash in the recesses,
of this forgotten part of the sea,
he circled closer,
you should, I would,
booming a silky bass,
behind my shoulder
as if to bite of the buttons,
one by one that bound me,
I flinched, and turned around,
but he was gone, ripples tickling,
a shiver down my backside,
the vest came off.
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