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Collected Poetry

    (rd king dot net)
poetry and digital art

In California

  By the Motel Pool 


Outside the windows of room 313,
by the door to 319, young palms
are in bloom.  The round,
wall thermometer reads
ninety-eight degrees.  Most
of the guests seem quite sure
of what to do.  The middle-aged woman
in the white and blue swimsuit
slips out of her thongs and walks
down the white, glimmering steps
into the pool.  Gold hoop earrings.
Her sunglasses and sunscarf.  Yet
the retired couple can't stop
rubbing lotion into their skin
while a man talks with a woman
on a chaise lounge, and scratches
his chest.  In a white uniform,
stockings and shoes, the indian maid
stares.  From the third-floor balcony
she stares down at the pool.




 
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