The anglerfish is rabid; its foaming chops
make it look a little like Santa
and thus, Franklin feels the fatal temptation
to stay his hand
which, in the next instant, he loses
to the fish's champing jaws.
Years later, in the retirement home,
he tells this story to a crowd of skeptical residents,
patting the giant foam WWE prosthetic,
poking Gabriel when he appears to doze off,
a trail of slobber oozing from his chin
like a lure.