The POTW: Verse Til It Hurts


POTW #728
(Week of 20 June, 2010)

Some avenues are better left uninvestigated.


In a terminal hotel
Wherein the stalest nightmares dwell
Beneath a dusty blanket smell
A traveler becoming mired

Out the window semi-clear
A murky landmark from the rear
Prominent but insincere
As though illicitly acquired

Listless greetings from the staff
A poorly-worded hasty draft
Of disregard on their behalf
Like the upkeep uninspired

Carpet thickly inconsistent
Staunchly stain-resist-resistant
Dry and soggy equidistant
Well past time to be retired

The mini-fridge, all sleek and chaste
Appeared a trifle out of place
An island of unlikely grace
The note of truth in a lie

Whence its admirable measure?
Did it hide some piquant pleasure?
Some cool delightful treasure?
The traveler peeked inside

There, the remnants of a meal
Stale and seeping and congealed
Wrapped in plastic, possibly sealed
Shrieked a cruel and frightful jest

A shock of culinary gore
Be wary what you do explore
The weary traveler shut the door
And left it for some future guest

Copyright © 2010 by Dave Grossman

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