Never Get Out Of The Boat Poem by Charles Malcolm

She's like a long surfboard
or a thin lane
when I look her up and down.

Alone with me, polished, and flat-
how I like them.

I only notice the similarities
because of these glances at a door
that she never walks through.

Bottles and olives and everything
in between.

When she does,
It's just a flare.

This bar is and will always be
the opposite of what never walks
through that door.

I can attack the mirror
that sits behind it
on my own time.

Charlie don't surf.