The Pink Hotel

It’s four a.m. and the crowd twitches,

Built up nerve born from youth

seeking to run free.

“Let us go for a walk.

We are paying for the view.”

A silent ride down.

I walk ahead,

Lost in thoughts,

Drowning in my twenty four hour soda.

I look ahead.

There are low scattered fountains,

Large  and tiled with Spanish flowers.

In the darkness, I see light.

So much light is reflected

In waves of eerie hues.

Another match is burnt away.

“Dammit it won’t light.”

What was it, ten matches?

All to light his first cigar.

I don’t know why he kept trying.

I continue to walk away

To a farther fountain,

Where grass is still gentle,

To collapse in dewy golf turf.

I look to see a snake, none.

The pink hotel is a tower,

Looming in the sky above me.

Endless, reaching heights

I could never reach even reach

Laying eager on my back.

Why is there no stars,

Just a black sky?

A lonely Mercury

out of reach of Venus,

light up the seemingly black oblivion.

One cares to find me,

Upset at the foolish antics of youth.

“Are you ok?”

I smile and admit his thought was right.

I had lied on a truth question.

He looked away

And soon the two others

Reappeared  with a slow burning

Rolled bark of success.

“Want to walk?”

I nodded and got up,

Running ahead of the

Shambling pack.

I was always ahead,

Never next to anyone.

Not much is seen,

But a lonely palm tree

Framing Venus’ Lone arms,

And a single fish darting

Between lighted Angel mirrors.

There is another fountain.

I jump to the highest peak

And look down at my youth.

I open my mouth to say,

“When you were Polonius is this how you felt?”

The guy holding the cigar laughs,

“Never my dear.”

I shake my head and point

at the cigar he holds far from him.

“To thine own self be true.”

They laugh and keep walking,

Remarks on wealth and status.

We were so young, so eager

To make an image of ourselves-

An image we didn’t really understand.

I walk back to the room,

Another silent ride in the elevator.

Quietly I slip inside.

I’m hungry for something new.

I’m lonely.

Why did I choose this pink hotel?

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Adolescents – Incubus

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