today i smelled the old room
white and plain and still existing in spite of itself
or just in spite
my nose recognized its wants and woes
i know not why
feelings crushed like a red felt hat under a bus
the prickly tongue of an irritated cat
fangs that barely hurt but try to
at 7:00 am i heard the lilting tune of a singer
with my new morning eyes caught on the track numbers that mean nothing to anyone
he was underground's delirious star
beautiful motown voice betraying poverty and desperation
instead easy and rolling and warm and brown
colored by cognac or hennessy
my new morning eyes caught on the random track numbers
and i thought of the old room
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