Fishing

​I sit by the ocean,

Your friends, they toss nets in the water,

Fishermen.

The water touches my toes

And I pretend not to notice,

Staring.

As they heave in the nets,

I get up to leave,

Your hands.

I am stopped in my path,

By the way that you look at me,

Those eyes.

As soon as you put your hands on me,

You have me,

Hook.

Line.

Sinker.