big town blues (i) ::
bikini hotel

bikini hotel
not the see and desire
not the atoll

this bikini hotel’s
a worn entrance
in any rundown main street

green or red or cock
it doesn’t really matter

none of the fittings quite …
the water may be hot
but the plumbing sings tenor hound

and the bedding
doesn’t quite smell of drunks the other night
but you can see where the cigarettes were forgotten

the lights light
the kettle hums a growing wind
but the coffee’s slecht

& you wonder whether the string
that keeps the place rolling
even in good times

will slip
even snap

or will the staff …
they’re always on the first train
polite and tired

every hotel
inside this social land’s capital
seems to be bikini

wann soll ich fahren

poem

2K7:9

arts & ego
dish dosh
© & licence

big town blues (i)
that was this morning
my grey is a coat
bikini hotel
up the kriek
dinxle
small empire of life
lobby watch
that is you luxembourgers’ fault

big town blues (ii)
degraded stress
since the day is wasted
the conversatiee
veer horizon
pupate
sea picture
it’s process
the vibrate




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