Giant Squid

You look to me like
a fucking giant squid,
all slimey and treacherous,
hidden from sight
and encloaked
in a darkness of debris
of your making,
your ink being no different
than a smoke screen.

Your eyes reveal nothing
when stared at,
indistinguishable from glass,
cold and dead,
made from the sand at
the bottom of the sea.

I admire your skills
in resisting underwater pressure,
moving at ease
in the viscosity of the medium.

Maybe I, as a little fish,
should hold on to your wake,
see where it takes me,
but that would be
an enormous exercise of trust.