Room 104 - Poem by Charles Monroe
Feeding Monstrous appetites
Sweaty foreheads joined careless
In the dark of mo-mo AC
The scent of Cigarette and intercourse
Never quite leave any room once they've been in it.
Bible in counter seems uncalled for
And color t.v. and HBO with international breakfast
is for tourists; not us.
We've been here many times before
Same perfume different room
Same mood, hot maroon
light food and mixed drinks
bag of ice in sink
like you and I.
It seems we've made it,
mated, to checkout time;
and still indisposed.
No coffee maker if its
Fifty bucks a night
But there is no price
When You and I can
afford to spend time
Behind the closed door
of room 104.
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