Day 8: As loud as that as allowed as that

“As loud as that as allowed as that”
 
In the Tenderloin, blocks of lit windows
In the Tenderloin, two seasons of being
In the Tenderloin, seen as seen and who that was would never
In the Tenderloin, of what they took, of whom,  who was taken
Everyone in the Tenderloin taken or taking, especially at night
In a room in the Tenderloin, on the ninth floor euphemistically hell-like
On Turk and Hyde, in time and out of time in time and out the out an inner exterior
In the Tenderloin with smoke as language
In the Tenderloin, news of the saints from the lips of prostitutes, the little flower on her deathbed, stared at like a string of onions by those who knew her not at all
In the Tenderloin, that faded caption
In the Tenderloin, the certainty bent over the hood of a car
In the Tenderloin, stacked crates, banh mi again and again
Under a jangly dome of Django, hair loose and still damp, too late or too soon was I always too
in the Tenderloin
In the Tenderloin not neon, not ash, not everyone, though everyone, not the crash
In the Tenderloin the curtain between sleepers, the disobedient smell of frying
In the Tenderloin, the going not the staying, the going on, the going
 

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