The Women Of Mirage Poem by James McLain

How she came to be, she was.
Most from this region are except for the few.
One has told me how they think,
she does not.
Make contact with her I think,
she has a husband.
Does he drink beer is he loud?
This thinking keeps me ready to let her.
Ready for her to make the next move.
The big bun that's her hair.
I still have not devuldged where here I am not.
Maybe I am all done in.
The women are here then gone the next moment.
Tired it is night one she comes,
without sound.
A quick drink of water she calls.
Come to me it is dusk, she knows I will.
I will not risk my relationship for the others.
She comes and I will.