Gideons

The nightstand drawer smells like old dust

and the people who gave up on sleeping.

I wanted a menu, something fried and greasy,

to kill the hum of the air conditioner.

Instead, there’s the black leather and the gold,

marked by a coffee ring on the very edge

where someone sat and probably wondered

if the ceiling would ever stop moving.

I don't need the fire or the brimstone today.

I just need the TV to stay on

until the sun decides to show up

and tell me where I am.