The Bottom Shelf Review

Empty bed, strange but
clean. Time-worn sheets
hide, indifferent, where
pale blanket meets.

Musty humid air
lingers, stale scents.
Departed guests leave
stagnant remnants.

The a/c rattles,
tepid air spurts.
Heavy paisley drapes
flutter, adverse.

I climb between the
soft sheets and sigh,
toes bare, mind racing,
and wonder why.

      Who slept here before me? 

Images flit by,
black and white, shades
of gray. Old movies.
The actor fades.

      I dream of the others.

A bony old man
reliving life
as he snores, barely
there, full of strife.

A married couple.
Clashing, ripping
covers off the bed,
fighting, nipping.

A small child startled
awake, barely
recalling nightmares –
just that they’re scary.

I wake. I leave my
humanity
for other dreamers’
affinity.