Leonard

Perhaps Leonard can bring me out of it.

Visit me with stories of orange and green,

flowers on the walls,

and pictures of children

with sad, lopsided faces.

A church on the hill,

empty and forgotten,

ringing its bell,

assuring me that

I am

still

here.

Perhaps he could hold my hand

and sing to me

in his deep

New-York-City voice.

Urge me out among the broken glass

and condoms,

and into that dark Chinatown restaurant

with the soup dumplings.

He’s done it before.

Taken me.

Pushed me into beauty

I never knew existed.

Made me feel,

with the flick of a poet’s tongue.

If only the needle

were near me now.

I would set him loose

upon me.