Open Lays The Market Poem by James McLain

She was always talking about it,
or where they both were going, with out this.
Can you get more randomless?
What kind of open line is this to end a conversation?
I stood up, not being keen on her talking now.

I want you to milk the cows out there, not me!

Opened eye that always bulged.
The hollow is where I slept last night.
Okay, with that the others here that were.
Closing, open hands but never still.

Come here, hold on...there all alone.
Look about there's no one here, to see.
The wind a breathless sigh grass whispers, Me.

When you were always on your back and sick!
I would do that dreaming but in thought of you.
The cow now it is trained.
Closed eyes watching me.
Are you afraid that you might coming over there enjoy it?
Or that you don't now, want to touch and move
them brown, those dreamy eyes?

His eyes were unwillingly drawn to the pink semicircle
that resided beneath her open hand.
Below the warm large white stomach.
He shuddered at the thought.
Considering her touching the udders,
of squeezing off from mighty them.
My hem of many colors what if then.

He shoved her disturbing mental image out of his head.
And then she always sitting, standing, walking smiling said.

There open lays the market,
come lets linger here some longer then let go!