Pot

eight thirty, i spin and find my center, you talk about the weather, he smiles, and i remember. you stand and make me sweat. he wants to make a bet i laugh and then forget. i then proceed to swim at sea; he butterflies and follows me you praise your god unsilently. he grabs my leg, or thigh, or wrist. you, Devil you, don't make a fist. two more fellows on my list. eight thirty-five.