HOTEL PANAMA Comments

Have we any idea where we will wake one night,
Deep in the future? The shutters are dark,
The unfamiliar neon signs on the blink.
The air hums with names
We can barely pronounce.
We have no idea.

We were warned. He's back again,
The god of strange things, who shifts
Everything round, who sees everything pass:
Playgrounds, with their shouts, flower stalls,
New cafes with young folk, their all-over tattoos.
Even the famous landmarks in the cities
Are all out of place.

Ships bob up between the factories,
Bright flags on the washing lines. It could
Be a strip of land, somewhere between
The Bosporus and Panama, and the sea at hand.
It starts in the hotel lobby: those grey stucco
Rosettes on the ceiling of the dingy bar,
That yesterday were somewhere else.

If yesterday is the place that promises a toehold
In the flood of days and names, that we must

Hang onto, notorious collectors that we are.
But that's not what it does. That is a kindness
It does not do for pilgrims like us.
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