big town blues (i)
bikini hotel

bikini hotel
not the see and desire
not the atoll

this bikini hotel’s
a worn entrance
on any rundown road

green or red or cock
it doesn’t really matter

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

and the bedding
doesn’t say drunks the other night
but you can tell where cigarettes were forgotten

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

& you wonder if the chord
that keeps the place swinging
will 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…