Malate Hotel Poem by RIC BASTASA

been in that gloomy room
the linens are pale and there is a hole
where a mouse goes in and out
in familiarities

my wife did not like it
and angrily told me that
it will be the last time

alone i went there again
same rat, same paleness, same
gloom
but not completely

i open the window at midnight
to see the dances of the lights
and the crowd of people and cars
and girls
and with all the glass windows

i do not hear the murmurs
and whispers
and sometimes those screams
it is like a silent movie

you were once here too
and you called me
that you had just arrived from
a very long trip

you told the hotel keeper
writing my name on a piece
of paper,
'let him in my room
when he arrives.
we are friends'

it was raining so hard
and i told the hotel keeper
'my shoes are muddy,
and i better wait at the
lobby'

hot coffee, just hot coffee
and some happy talks.