Another Place

In traffic we’re sitting and I’m watching
The world around me.
In front of me is a red pickup truck,
An older couple inside, hands at ten and two,
Sitting up straight and driving the speed limit.

I close my eyes and climb in with them
And we go home.
I lay on the bathroom floor, cool on my skin.
Rose petal pink tiles like ice cubes, smooth and
Shiny. The room smells like baby powder and
Decade old Estee Lauder. An ashtray sits on the sink,
Small brown circles on the counter where the
Cigarette has snuck down to kiss the granite.

Sun glides through the curtains over the toilet,
Caressing dusty bottles of age old beauty, brown
And thick. A silver tray with mirrored bottom reflects
A rounded back, a grey head, a spine curved by
Time.