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)