Monday, November 25, 2002

santa fe.

"Santa Fe"

The musty medley
Of Old Spice cologne,
Blue Listerine,
And Wintergreen Copenhagen
Invades my nostrils
And stings at my tear ducts
As I push open
The dingy metal door of the 1970’s,
southwestern décor hotel room.

Inside the cab of your
Navy pick-up is the only place
I have smelled this combination before.

You would have liked the ridiculously large
Cowboy painting hanging crooked
Over the burly wooden headboard,
With its cliché sunset
And pensive cowboy
Mounted on his trusty steed
Staring off into the horizon.

My bags squeak the over-used
Springs of the bed,
Its lopsided mattress makes me
Disappointed I will be
Sleeping alone.
No one to roll into the slump with.

Santa Fe is not supposed to remind me of you.

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