DWI

The silvery lures dangle before our eyes, swaying in the noon currents. Scintillating. One by one our guppy minds and mouths succumb, and we are hauled to the surface, dry throated and choking painfully. The fishermen in blue stop our flopping. The politician's knife guts us. Our entrails are flung back to the deep; our sweet meet is consumed by raw men with rapist teeth. Their banking bellies are bottomless everlasting.