named poem — "meet (the tenderloin)

meet me in the tenderloin
where wanderers are lost
dawn to dawn with curtains drawn
so glad our paths were crossed

wake me in a room
a sight for sunken eyes
a secret nook of seasick wood
remember til I die

a scent will cure my ills
a voice will cure my ills
a warmth will cure my ills
as you will

forever now forever wishing
I could return to that still room
to feel you
and with toes inching toward the edge
a scent, a voice, a warmth in a flash
taking me back to the tenderloin at last