How unnerving to wake before
everyone else in the hotel, to
lie there like a criminal or thief;
bowed beneath the sheets,
the fetal position being one of
extreme innocence: even for the dead.
Demoralizing to realize it is
sending static from the fringes.
This is no absent lover, familiar
with your name; it’s a cowboy,
a handmaiden in the modern style.
Mere entertainment, where you can
wash your hands of anything:
especially the pain love also brings.
Get back to the job; old friends
who will reassure you nothing changes:
disco til you drop, the terror remains.
OUR GEOGRAPHIES, POEMS VOL.2, 126 pages, many never posted
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