Hotel Yesterday vs Hotel Today


Hotel Yesterday vs Hotel Today


They had knock-knock sex

And took turns screaming

Who goes there?!


While I sat in the next room shaking

Listening as they fucked away madness

On the other side of the wall


Their grunts making oatmeal out of the drywall

Rubbing my face and everything else that wasn’t my crotch

In the electability issues that refused to disperse my long un-lost

Grass roots distrust of love/celibacy kick cloud


I heard it go in

And I heard it go out and then

I heard it stay out for an extra second or two

Until it went in again and then stayed in again

And stayed in


Blindfolded by the firing squad reminders

Of when all that in-and-outing

Used to include a present tense versions of me and you


I clutched my face in my hand

As if my face were what’s left of the memory

Of your right breast


And then upon realizing what I was just doing

I screamed bullshit and drank whiskey

Like a left boob stumbling into a demolished bra shop

On an abandoned mall kind of day


Listening to the sounds of what used to be us

In the motel room right next to me

I was living beside our own past


And our past was loud

And punctuated by a movie popcorn machine of

Abundantly buttered orgasms


In those long gone days

We used to be so goddamn loud

That it was pissing me off


I tried to watch TV to take my mind off tonight’s neighbors

The news was a stockpile of horrible actions

Which involved Trump arrogantly first-dating America


Jumping dryly from “Hi my name is Donald and my daddy gave me money”

Straight into the executive order in which he’s attempting

To perform anal without the proper permits again


So I flipped over to the re-run channels

Spooky eye humping Scully

Scully eye humping Mulder

Followed by a couple episodes of Star Trek where

Picard’s chest hair goes on a starship date with Dr. Crusher and

Even Lt Commander Data was getting laid


Flip the channel again

And everything comes crashing back down to Earth

Trump’s epically overestimating his crowd size again

Applause shaped like hemorrhoids

Crowds as far as the curtains can see


In the next room our past

Had just mutilated the headboard again

And it sounds as if an end table has joined in


They were us, and we were having knock-knock sex

Taking turns screaming Who goes there?!

While I was stuck in the adjoining room


Drinking whiskey on Brautigan’s birthday

The whole place surrounded by executive orders.

post-apocalypse sex, and fast food hypocrisy


Losing my mind until I thought about jerking off

But my hand said not tonight love, because its knuckles

Had a headache and insisted on half assedly

Finishing this poem

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