Hotel ***

shortly after we arrive, eye call the front desk and ask them
when was the first time we stayed at the hotel?

2010, five years, usually once, sometimes twice de a year was
the answer.

in their computer, the management records our modest likes, preferred newspapers, the firmness of our pillows and that
we require telephonic advisories to adjacent rooms,
code worded Kilimanjaro,
when we engage in Grade A, FDA approved hotel ***.

noisy, twisted, sheet messed, bubble bathed, wall climbing, chandelier swinging, room device only, do not disturb, full on, hotel ***.

but times change us and this time eye reach repeatedly for her bare arms, and one in ten, one in ten, I dare to gentle, to caress... lest eye awaken her...nothing changes, everything changes, the satisfactions express themselves differently...time zone changes, alter body clocks and needs are not auto-instinctual, more cerebral, and yet eye tend to her both  like my woman and beloved child, anticipating her almost every need...and wonder where that
hotel *** drive got misplaced...
them glory days...

when they ask if our stay was satisfying,
my verbal reply is both invisibly straight and di-visibly crooked...

"holey satisfactory, holy satisfactory"

and ever eye am the pun, the jokester par excellent,
hugging nuggets of previous journeys...
retrieved from cold storage, recollections  of
*ah, hot hotel ***!