Hotel Hallways


Hotel Hallways

The infinite paisleys
Serve as inspiration…to run!
Narrow but not confining
Expansive but bounded tight
The possibilities seem endless
The carpet goes on forever!
Each door a new world, but consistent.
To race past each
Is a breathless adventure
Ending abruptly
At a wall.
A metaphor for life?
Perhaps not,
But a damn fine sprint.

Day 24/25/26


Day 24: Luxury

The shower cap is labeled “finest”

As though every other piece of elasticized plastic

Would crumple in shame if put in the same company

As this testament to hair protection.

On the same tray as this miraculous product

are the “finest” sewing kit, “finest” facial soap, and “finest” emery board.

Next to these royal amenities,

Is a five dollar bottle of water which doesn’t fill the glass next to it.

You will not find a better comb,

And you must afford the water.

The true mark of a classy joint.




Day 25:  Bad Hello

You don’t realize how difficult “hello” can be

Until everyone says it wrong.

“Hello” a word whispered at my back,

A test to see if I’ll stop and turn around.

I don’t. Improper usage and timing.

“Hello!” screamed from a fourth story window

A test to see if I’ll look up.

I do. Sometimes. A minor teaching point.

“Hello!”cheerily called from the turf

A test to see if I’ll take out my headphones.

I do. Counter-test. Always met with laughter.

“Hello!” Filthy words in disguise.

A test to see if I’ll notice the inflection.

I do. Allow eyes to slit. Respond with ice.

“Hello,” A fishing line for my thinning wallet.

Probably a trap. Best keep walking. Silent.

You don’t realize how difficult “hello” can be

Until everyone says it wrong.




Day 26: Book on Tape

Do you have any books on tape? I suggest.

A great way for her to hear the beauty of the language,

As well as clear speaking voices.

I bought one for her, but she never uses it, he chides,

popping a CD into the player.

She grimaces in anticipation, gripping the wheel a little tighter.

I wait, curious.

Then – bees.

My brain is thick with bees somehow.

Oh wait – no, they’re clearing,

And now I’m listening to a voice as heavy as wrought iron

Reading from the dust jacket

About the Great Crash of 1929.

No wonder.