Sunflower Yellow Poem by James McLain

The gust which shook me as I turned back around to face her.
It was as if a volt/bolt of shock or such was the feel electricity,
which passed through from her eye to eye to me.
She is white around her west, the south is thin northern stars
she wears I point east at the skirt.
How it against the wind by the sky it sucked up, is repelled.
My shaking head both shaking when time for us stands still,
the time when you see the second hand it's time stop exactly.
She of perfection around and around a group of people ardently.
The naked tan foot to the bridges mouth,
and her stare provocative to all directly,
and her panties of sunflower yellow race/lace she has illustrated of me her supervised O' woe to they, my extension!
She was of that neat the building nearly eddies immediately,
with the floating silky material.
And hot wind could not use this broad wooden handled brush,
out in the open on the side walk that never ends,
to paint the moon any greener or red, white and blue.
To never see that which the wind has shown, never to obtain that.
As for me she clearly wears clothes in order to stop,
and she means the men to pierce, that which she has stopped.
Simultaneously,
she, 'I' her and actuals the fact that I stop momentarily unconscious.
This time as it starts again it moves as for me, passing she,
you scrutinized her well turned foot and the panties clearly.
As the shopping customers,
whom lost is the midst of using, which could use the brush.
Geeky, I how she saw, because I was not here but conscious,
my surface which is washed like dust in the wind away, far away.
Being conservative,
I am that person whom at the center of the blue suit wrinkled it ages,
and this new position and this woman' Inspects, my body gave away.
The clothes of hers that for one brief time the wind upheld.