My115thDream

Dave's Mental Meanderings
2006-12-09 01:43:44 (UTC)

Poem - "Reminders"

It’s raining tonight outside my hotel
Up here in Kingston, Ontario,
Mother Nature, that wretched old bitch,
Has supplied a suiting scenario.
I set out tonight to grab a quick bite
And see what’s there for the finding,
A pint or three in some dingy old bar
And I’d be well on my way to unwinding.
Prowling the streets for some hole to escape
From the cold Canadian night,
Somewhere to shoot a few games of pool
In smoky, dim yellow light.
But just as my boots are clicking en route
To the seediest dive in sight,
I can’t help but think that drowning in drink
Just isn’t what I need tonight.
I’m a little too sad to go properly mad
As standard procedure suggests,
So I pick up a coffee, return to my room,
And let my pen do the rest.
The night clerk had said upon my arrival
“All of our rooms are non-smoking.”
I muttered “Good luck, you crazy canuck,
Surely you’ve got to be joking.”
Hunched at the table as well as I’m able
From this farce they insist is a chair,
By the window I shudder as I light up another
And curse the bitter cold air.
The cold in the room only thickens the gloom
On account of how it reminds me
Of holding her tight on a cool autumn night
In our bed where my burdens can’t find me.
The draft on my face takes me back to a place
Where I’m sure I’ve never been higher,
Rattling her nerves on those country road curves
On a two-wheeled chariot of fire,
Stopping in town to wander around
And share some ice cream and coffee.
In this town by the lake I can’t seem to shake
Those magical memories off me.
The battered old book lying buried beneath
My jacket and black leather gloves
Reminds me it’s not just her beautiful face
With which I’ve fallen in love.
The hair dryer hanging on the bathroom wall
Summons that sweetest of scents,
When I bury my face in her cascading curls
Life suddenly seems to make sense.
The bathtub nearby catches my eye
And I grin at myself in the mirror,
I can’t help but dream of the candles and steam
That await me as Friday grows nearer.
But the big empty bed snaps me out of my head
And reminds me I’m here all alone,
At best, tonight, if I’m lucky I might
Hear her sweet voice on the phone.
Until then I’ll sit here and scratch out my song
Of melodramatic sorrow,
She’s miles away and I’m lonely today
Because I can’t see her tomorrow.
But alas, in short order I’ll re-cross the border
And hold my love in my arms,
For tonight I’ll just hope she joins me in dreams
Before the morning’s alarm.