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In the hotel
It’d rained yesterday.
Slip slop of my bare feet
kick through them concrete grey hallways.
My hands grazed over
beams colored with chipped paint
that pricked my fingers.
Thems entrance doors lazed mid-swing.
condensation collecting on hazy glass panes.
Sweet aroma of coffee cream
floated through the air,
(the sound of steel drums
‘n gui-tars)
when the doors squeaked open
The building were a faded yellow,
with a poolside surrounded by flowering trees
My brother and I sat on the edge
with our pants rolled up to our knees
water kicked up, up.
Slip slop.
He held a glass Coke bottle
half-full.
Equally yellow and faded
Christmas lights embraced them chipped beams.
I
(had a pineapple taste in my mouth)
We looked up
setting sun bathed the hotel in gold
sky darkened
blue black purple tinge
on the horizon
were rested clouds on our shoulders.
It's a poem, man.