I liked my little hole, <br />Its window facing a brick wall. <br />Next door there was a piano. <br />A few evenings a month <br />a crippled old man came to play <br />"My Blue Heaven." <br /> <br />Mostly, though, it was quiet. <br />Each room with its spider in heavy overcoat <br />Catching his fly with a web <br />Of cigarette smoke and revery. <br />So dark, <br />I could not see my face in the shaving mirror. <br /> <br />At 5 A.M. the sound of bare feet upstairs. <br />The "Gypsy" fortuneteller, <br />Whose storefront is on the corner, <br />Going to pee after a night of love. <br />Once, too, the sound of a child sobbing. <br />So near it was, I thought <br />For a moment, I was sobbing myself.<br /><br />Charles Simic<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hotel-insomnia/
