guess my scar

she lifts up the hem
of her skirt
and points to a thin
line, a scar,
soft and pink,
like a skinny worm
upon her thigh.
see that she says?
yes, I say,
shark bite?
no she says, but
guess.
knife fight. no.
caught on a rusty bed spring?
no, she says, horrified.
ummm. I give up,
I've got nothing,
I tell her and drink
my drink.
my mind wanders to
the sea.
to a raft, floating
out along the wide
blue.
i'm alone, except for
the sharks
circling with fins
above the surface.
they wait patiently.
I don't have
that kind of patience.
well? she says.
well what, I say back.