the line for
the fast food restaurant
stretches around the building
snaking it’s way
through the hotel parking lot

he stands in the window
freshly showered
in the midst
of crippling depression
as he stares down at the cars

he can’t sleep
the bed is too soft
the covers too heavy
the pillows too much
the quiet far too loud

after hours of nothing
he tried the floor
giving a new vantage
to the sinking feeling
of giving up

now he stands at the window
the towel in his hand
wondering at the
anaconda of vehicles
slowly undulating below

the sun hasn’t risen yet
but the sky is beginning to lighten
still more and more cars
join the cholesterol parade
a hundred angry brakes lights

he is exhausted as he
dresses slowly at the window unable to convince himself
one cave of solitude is just
as good as the one back home

he is self aware to see
the only common denominator
with what is afflicting him
is the one piece of baggage
he had to bring on the trip

so he watches the train
of hungry people inch forward wondering if today will be the day
he finally breaks down
knowing the problem is hinself