She Wears Black Like Me Poem by James McLain

Blond she keeps her distance from me.
Not because of what you think,
but what she knows if she decides and does.
How long has she watched me part the water as I swim?
A mile up and down as I toss aside the buoys,
when I reach them.
As if they were.
I try to think like her she has well muscled legs.
And I can only see her white panties,
when her sheer black shorts become gulf wet.
I can only assume that all of the woman,
know that I would swim through them like that.
Some times I swim so far up and down,
I have to call a cab to bring me back.
It is your fault that when you saw me,
that no interest did you show me.
Yesterday a hammer head ate a one hundred pound tarpon.
It's scales were larger than the largest man his hand.
She will, I again perhaps, I hope.
And yes I smoke.
I wonder how long her big toe is,
and her tongue is pink when we were speaking is.