A Dangerous Friend

looms in a chair
a few buildings away,
cradling in his throat
the tempting dark
incantations of crime. I could
meet him and pretend to resist,
and let him release
the oil and the flame.

I would float
where the possiblities
are boundless, among gates
into the secret folds
of the streets. I would be
touched by ashes which
I may never wash off.

He waits there in the chair.
I know where he is
he has told me to come
and I, once, agreed. He
rubbed me and released
my sweet poisons. I went
with him, so far away.