NIGHT CLERK IN A ROACH MOTEL
I’m the furtive inspector of dimly lit corridtors,
Dead light bulbs and red exit signs,
Doors that show traces
Of numerous attempts at violent entry,
Is that a rustle of counterfeit bills
Being counted in the wedding suite?
A comb passing through a head of gray hair?
The sound of a maid making a bed?
Eternity is a bathroom full of spider webs,
I better get the passkey and see for myself.
I better bring some matches too.