Touring

Coming in and out of cities
where I spend one or two days
selling myself
where I spend one or two nights
in beds that do not have the time to fit me
coming in and out of cities
too quickly
to be touched by their magic
I burn
from the beds that do not fit me
I leave sated
but without feeling
any texture of the house I have invaded
by invitation
I leave
with a disturbing sense
of the hard core of flesh
missed
and truly revealing.

I leave poems behind me
dropping them like dark seeds that
I will never harvest
that I will never mourn
if they are destroyed
they pay for a gift
I have not accepted.

Coming in and out of cities
untouched by their magic
I think without feeling
this is what men do
who try for some connection
and fail
and leave
five dollars on the table.