Elevator Mirrors

My father had a mustache, But not his father or his brothers I am very tempted In the new hotels The elevators are often so dark The mirrors are useless (Like this one) I don't want to go anywhere I've been to the Acropolis (1959) I sat on the old stones And was photographed with a woman (1970) Who troubled my life From then until now (2008) Dying in reasonable circumstances Is mostly what I hope for But here I am on the road Far from reasonable circumstances There is a woman I like She is young and beautiful and kind And cannot sing But she wants to be a singer I used to keep a full picture of her Hidden on my laptop Then I thought: I can't do this again And I dragged it (reluctantly) To the little trash basket Which I did not empty for quite a while In the elevator Of the Manchester Malmaison Hotel I have to put on reading glasses To find the button for my floor The corridors are dark purple Lit with pinpoint lights Bass-heavy hip-hop Dooming the generation From hidden speakers You squint to find your door (The entire enterprise Of travel and lodging Now pitched As a dangerous erotic adventure) I'm no one to say Who can or can't be a singer God knows my own credentials Were not extensive It was Good Fortune As success always is Period (A really lovely person I don't have to introduce To anyone at Sony)