Chi Hotel

I laid in bed all evening, because it was the kind to do so. ----- One where tired, hot feet rest in cool, white sheets-- hair still smells of sand -- and your body, feels good. A lovers kind of night, when joy fills long silences…and both get so happily lost in the playing field of a bed. Lost, what a wide word. Lost, like I've been a time again. ------ Knowing the sun is setting from the reflections between heavy hotel curtains. Not daring to move and brake the trance of lonely trails of mild revelations and word-spells.

What is it about this city that feels this way? Something about the way nothing comes to mind for a response to all the great mess quietly forming around my head like a grimy, binding, fog. Something about the wide streets and wonderful sites, and grey - grey - shiny grey- all around. And the people -- so many of them. All the hours that I walked today. 

Want to fly home tomorrow just to move, want to fly back just to feel. Want everything all at once --- liked I used to say. But it's so much farther away than a townhouse down the road bursting broken with passion and cut ecstasy. 

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Force.

What's that about the midnight oil? Cause I've been burning it. Turning it. Destroying the remnants of a thing constructed once, in the raspy finish of talking -- between laughter hurls -- late into the night, over the distance of us. Forgot to stop, and disappeared into…what? Letters of words - of air - they're just nothing, but everything, of what distant lovers say to feel. To give all the pieces away in a release of finding someone so alike -- all so wonderful -- the making plans, sharing pasts, the whispering yourself away. 

And then in the air tonight -- strolling out of work last, -- like it came from my own self, summoned, there was that tiny breathe of autumn chill. How I loved it dearly already. And how far away the love so different -- of an idea --- was. Felt strong, felt lonely, felt so entirely like it was never there, and never was. Just as I've heard it was. 

Have I been hiding it well? Like the dark circles under the eyes, like the daily tolls -- like everything else, I've fermented into something entirely else. Something to be drunk down on so-humid weekend nights, on the porch with the bugs --- my new drink of choice, instead of any liquor at all. 

Travel the seas why don't you -- as far as they lead, and get lost. Lose everything of me in a great wide night on the ocean when everything swells with each swell -- into a great mass of storm and force. That's all the poetry I've 'have left for now. 

Can't wait for everything on the other side of all of this great pause, this+that great deadlines and swelter of heat, and plummet of.... Want to feel the rapture of a true force taking hold within again. Want to feel beyond the whispers. Want to ignite the fires, and dance within that pocket of air between --- like once, as a rumbling child, did. But so much greater, in such a captivating calm anew.




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