Horror Hotel

the comfort of an alien bed
a familiar warmth
in an unknown town
the fog of not knowing
or wanting to
the 10 ingrained digits
and fire
Elvis never slept here
but that’s ok
cuz we did
the thickest atmosphere
the fragrance of clove
those distances drove
miles and miles of silence
and laughter
moments of pure substance
images upon images
of Life
of a Monopoly in Candyland
the confused levels of comfort
the one to one
that disappears with the distance
Pete Shelley never lied
(as far as I can tell)
I dedicate my socks to you
almost everyday
a Stieglitz like obsession
for which I’d apologize...if I could
I’m a broken record
sometimes
sometimes
I can even spell
more than your initials
or that initial circumstance
we’re closer than we think
sometimes
my mohawk and me will always miss you.