Red Dolls In Heat

From the 4^th to the 5^th

and back on the 10^th.

Moving days like chess

pieces

to accommodate outcomes.

None of them good.

My back against the wall

like so many

red cardinals.

Four days is too short.

Five days is too long.

I suffer the consequences

of snoring,

bad beds,

and hotel doors

slamming

all hours of the night.

How many times I have gone

only to arrive

and learn

I am unneeded,

unwanted.

Perhaps I could survive better

half-filled.

Ears stuffed with the music

of others.

Red dolls

in heat.

Strums of disconnect

in minor.

A fury of beats

drumming out

the voices in my head.

Yes.

It will be a waste.

It is always a waste.

And still,

I go.