The Sun On My Flesh Makes Me Swell Poem by James McLain

Naked in the heat,
asleep
in the sun except for here and there.
Walking by where I lay
perfumes waft down across my face,
quietly talking
I think the two think that I am but I'm not.
Even dipped into cold ice it's to late.
The infinite eight my mind's races around
coming back to the end of her smile.
Rare are the day's
like to day as the white moon
sits high in the sky it is true it is blue.
My eye is as pale as the white on her milky face.
Touching when touched, heart of hearts, so I touch.
The fallout is more never less when if she is afraid
to be touched as she wished.
Looking down.
Eye's lifting up just in time
to see the large wave wash ashore and swell up right
there and feel it stop and splash up.
Tasting the salt and wind blown white foam on her face.