Super 8

On our road trip we stayed in a lot of hotels.  Given my choice to do it over, I would eliminate some, most, or all(?) of our hotel stays and opt instead for a lot of camping, couch surfing, and even sleeping in the car.  We could have saved a lot of money this way and managed to stay out on the road for months longer than we did.  We had so much fun, but we also spent SO much money.  I'm sure we could have done a lot better than $9,500 in 90 days!  Anyway, below is a poem I wrote after about 80 days of hotel-tripping.

I would really love to know people are reading, whether they think its good, bad, or otherwise.  At the bottom of this post, there are three opportunities to let me know.  The first way is to click one of the boxes next to "I enjoyed this post," "Interesting!," or "Did not enjoy."  The second way is to scroll down and click on the link that says "0 Comments" (or hopefully it'll say "1 comment" or "2+ comments") and type a short message explaining how you felt about the poem.  The third is to click on the Facebook "f" icon and share it with your friends on Facebook!


SUPER 8

Colorful comforters, neatly tucked, are hotel trademarks,
And I understand the impression they’re trying to make,
But why do they itch?  They feel ironically woolly.
There ought to be a word for a comforter that’s not quite right.
An “uncomforter" or maybe you prefer “discomforter” or something.
I hate those woolly, itchy sleeping squares.

At least hotel comforters are clean, or so they seem,
Thanks to that dizzying watercolor design on top.

That’s a job I think I’d like, picking out hotel uncomforters.
I am not sure how much money I would make,
Though I expect my work would be appreciated.
There can be no doubt that they are carefully selected,
Chosen to highlight that lovely blue in the painting above the bed,
No, not the thicket, the one with the wooden rowboat.

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