Hostel Witness
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Hostel Witness
It was a disorderly menàge á huit every night 📖 PROSE POEM
The youth hostel near the waterfront
was a large sunny room with eight narrow beds
a sink, and one decent shower.
It was a disorderly menàge á huit every night,
strangers all sleeping together,
listening to each others’ night noises.
He dreamed of intense, but brief, romances.
He dreamed of breakfasts of sesame bread, cheese and olives
and bitter coffee, thick and dark.
He dreamed of crooked stairways and dim, winding alleys.
He was twenty-one years old, with a backpack,
and he was ready for anything.
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I realize I am not in the adventure tribe. It must be why the solace of garden is my pleasure, green stuff miniscule like chamomile in the gravel of the driveway and oaks rooted in the same place for hundreds of years. Old skills of thread and wild flowers that defy truck tires~~ That's enough excitement. "Out there" belongs to a different race of beings who delight in unknown. Plenty for everyone.
Love the play on words in the title and menage-ing!