The Hotel Delta
The Hotel Delta
A Story Poem by Jim Nasium
freshly painted yellow and green walls
indicated the place was (at least) clean
he just needed a place to spend the night
the night streets of Bogota can be mean
the older lady at the desk was friendly
a black and white TV was the only light
he asked for a room with a private bath
said "I'll only be spending one night"
she looked away from the TV and smiled
said "I think you'll like it here
let me tell you about The Hotel Delta
first of all you haven't a thing to fear"
"we offer a room service dinner
we've the best chef in town
why don't you go clean up
and I'll send room service around"
"did you know we do laundry
and if you like, we can get you a lady
for 100 pesos she'll spend the night
and do anything to make you happy"
II.
the far upstairs corner room
had a balcony facing East
room service included wine
and a traditional Colombian feast
his bed was a king size and new
the bathroom just as clean as could be
there was small living room area
and a kitchenette, over by the balcony
the dining room table caught his eye
it was the place he wanted to go
he sat in the chair and with out a care
dumped out a rather large bag of snow
he promised himself he would just do
a few lines then he would go shower
next thing he knew, a knock on the door
room service came back within the hour
he gave the boy a tip, then licked his lip
his mouth was dry but he wanted more
he picked up the phone said "I don't want to be alone
could you please send up a sweet young whore"
III.
dinner sat there on the table
food was the last thing on his mind
he just wanted coke and that whore
they fucked till they were damn near blind
but nothing mattered to him at any more
not food, sleep. sex, or a shower
he just sat in his chair, with out a care
writing in his journal hour after hour
the used whore was sleeping on the floor
he had his full of her for the night
so he made his plan to disappear
and planned to leave before first light
come dawn he was gone, with out a trace
another night wasted, passing time away
partying and writing in the journal he kept
about being some place different every day
knowing it's best for a gringo hippie like him
not to even bother asking why
he was better off in a hotel room at night
writing in his journal and getting high...
©2008 Jim Nasium
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