A POEM - THE MORNING AFTER ANOTHER NIGHT IN THE BASTARD HOTEL

THE MORNING AFTER ANOTHER NIGHT IN THE BASTARD HOTEL
There was a scent of lemon
That was far too strong for that hour of the morning.
I jumped out of bed, tore open the door,
My head reeling.
“what’s the meaning of this?”
I shouted into the hallway.
“are you trying to poison me to death?
Don’t you think my head hurts enough already?”
There was a woman, a girl maybe,
Mopping up the hallway where somebody,
probably me, had puked the night before.
“oh,” I said, seeing the pile being smeared around.
I paused a moment, watching her.
“good morning,” I offered.
She nodded and dutifully returned a quiet “goot morning.”
“sleep well?” I asked, not really knowing why,
Just making conversation for no reason at all.
“I tired. joo an jur fren, joo keep us up all night. My whole fam-ly. We all awake because joo an jur fren.”
“yeah?” I asked, amused.
“yes. So, no. I no sleep well.”
The smile fell from my face.
She’d have to mop that up too.
“you!” I roared.
“You think you’re tired because you didn’t sleep well?”
She nodded again, very dutifully,
As though I was some god-man,
Expounding on a verse of some scripture
Which she held most sacred.
“you! think about me! That whole time when you were up,
Trying to sleep, probably getting sleep at times,
I was up drinking! Think about that, smarty pants.
Imagine how my head feels right now.”
I was squinting my eyes through a piercing headache.
“And with that lemon shit there! oh my god!”
I clutched my head and thought it might just fold in.
Then I began to laugh and slammed the door,
Because it was all so fucking ridiculous.
The girl, that place, me, the world.
I fell heavily back into bed,
Mumbling as I did so,
“goddamn it. Just another night in the bastard hotel.”