Thinking of Travel (New Poem!)

Reservations              

 

I want a glass of water. I’m tired

of warm gulps from plastic bottles

as we drive. I run the cold tap,

 

fill two plastic tumblers

supplied by the motel. We sip

and think about a nap. I unwrap

 

a tiny soap, wash my face,

look for the ice machine in the hall.

I like to fill the ice bucket

 

when we check into a place

though most the ice will melt

before I know what to do with it all.

 
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