All the doors were open, dark,
A square tower,
Like a breezed hotel in Miami
If Florida were black & white.
My friend was not quite
My friend, but before he’d died
Of a disease, he’d come to Orlando
To help me make something
Of myself, which came to nothing,
As someone I loved died
& I couldn’t remember how
To move from room to room.
A letter returned, I was sorry
To be a disappointment, outside
Still far away. & then,
Years later, my friend not quite,
Died & came to me one night
Brought me to this lunar
Place—barren except for this hotel—
Maybe not even the moon
I knew. We stood midway
Up the tower on concrete,
Night to our right no railing
Rooms circling the tower.
The one we stood before open
Like the rest. My friend not quite
My friend stood with me quietly
Until I felt you there inside
Sleeping, & panic grew,
I thought it was the Suicide
Hotel. Waking,
I knew I had to find it,
Find you, enter that dark room.
But light fell down my chest,
Lightly, like a letter
Someone dropped. I’d left
The dream too early,
Door open to keep you,
Seen, the darkness keeps you safe.
My friend not quite
Was your friend too
In life & here. I know him
So better now in death
Though he’s doing the same
Thing, traveling a long distance
To help me step into my life.