the dining room
of the drury inn
is a dreary place
with mispy souls
congregating tiredly

they are miserable
no happy vacationers
just lonely workers
too many mullets
and not enough hope

i am just happy
to not be alone
which speaks volumes
i’d rather not
contemplate tonight

the scenic view of
the back of a home depot
the sounds of engines
and driving bass thumping
as i lay in the dark

a series of mishaps
autocorrected wrong addresses
bounced corporate cards
a string of wrecks
and three hundred miles

i tell her i love her
hoping this new ceiling
does a better job at
sending my missives
than the one back home

three nights stay at
the dreary drury inn
a different prison for
an unrepentant bastard
too self aware to be happy