fifty-nine : in a hotel room
A man is calling my name. Someone else’s name, probably, but just in case I walk outside and stand on the balcony. Waves crash, invisible in the dark, they crash. I see a light on in another hotel room, in another hotel. Nobody stands in the parking lot. I wait a moment for the person to call out again, but they don’t. I walk back inside.
In the room, I put on some music. When I’m at… I lay on the bed. the pearly gates… I hear footsteps in the hall. this’ll be on… They echo and fade. my videotape… I stare at the ceiling. I wait for sleep. I wait I wait I wait.
I didn’t post yesterday and I feel terrible about it. I was on a road trip and forgot to take my laptop. I did, however, write this last night on hotel notepaper while laying back and listening to Radiohead. I nearly wrote in my hotel rooms spa, but remembered just in time that water beats paper.
