HOTEL PARADISE
sitting on the edge of the bed
at the hotel paradise
hum of the garbage can city
vibrates smudged windowpane
arms itch, lungs wheeze
a rope dangles off a fire escape
curtains fall at twilight
cheap literature stokes the flames
trembling before lipsticked mirror
hotel deduced by dusty corridors
cop helicopters hound rooftops
naturally scheming
a tiresome bone fracture drags
metatarsal across
worn carpeting
welcome to the truth
bold as a body done believing
in daydreams of the heart
sump pumps of love hospitalized
the blinking lights behind
cityscape fallen from charred cave wall
ON A SCALE OF ONE TO INFINITY
the closer one comes to death
the more the world resembles a madhouse
the promise of the early days
the hope sleazily wrapped
in worship of dark alleyway noir
now the sagging, deflated heart
sighs and stale cheese sandwiches
the boringly mediocre details of love
it’s easier to meditate on the wasted chances
the frivolity of a cloud or squeal of tires
before impact
a baseball game on the radio in mid-May
a good book with a bad ending
a couple bucks
a brother’s divorce pending
the closer one approaches the inevitable
the more certain one is of the minutiae
the dimple rather than a smile
one fine gray hair
THE SOCIALITE
There is no
I
Only we
Animals for the petting zoo
Or meat counter
Which would you prefer
Madam?
Kind sir?
Shopping for fetish
moan for Bon Appetite
Gratification paramount
Sustenance
At the drive-thru
Don’t bother to think
There is no I
Only all one can
Consume
Now get back
to
Work.
Passer's work has appeared in print and online since 1988.
He lives and works in the Tenderloin district of San Francisco, the city of his birth.
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