Mismatched Names

Those long naked journeys, deliciously
free and bursting at the seams
like an over-stuffed train.

 Mismatched names signing
suburban hotel pages, where
flesh against flesh, surrenders to overly
 salted membranes.
Nocturnal contorted mirrors
refracting light, so pleadingly primal
that they impart no mistaken meanings.

Hallucinating nights
airless for the desire of inhalation.
People like us, unsuitably wrapped
around sinewed, twisted limbs
where nothing remains, outside
the taste of your over gelled hair.