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