Again I come to taste you
in the buzz of the evening
at the Abracadabar, it does
not smell like then, but like you
blossoming above everything
the senses are singing around
they nest in me
until the two of us will remain
and go home together
Eyes, lips, chest, and belly
tears at tough self-mockery
I put everything in the dish
for my company, a man
you could have been
Tonight, the remaining question is
who will join who
in the magic
of his thoughts