the hotel bar

an untethered few—

all strangers to

each other— with final stops too far,

all rest their feet

in the mismatched seats

gathered there at the hotel bar.

one spends her night

with a dead tealight

that once flickered like an evening star.

but see a half-smile crack

in the carlsberg tap

at the end of the hotel bar.

old tungsten bulbs

light a couple’s souls,

their bags left sitting in the car,

weary chatter sings

til the barkeep rings

last call at the hotel bar.

all the world is there

in a three pint stare

and the shimmer off a room key card

but the morning sun

sinks the gentle hum

we left in the hotel bar.