Hotel Petroleum

Dear Guest

Your air-conditioning is the voice of love.
It sighs and cools like cotton sheets.
Each pool reflects your inner turquoise.
All that you touch is fragrant and labial.
Even the trees are squeezed for perfume.
Your limbs tan the suede of antelopes.
Please feel as thin as your best credit card.
Your eyes take on whatever sky you desire.
Diamonds crust your lovely skull inside
lighting up your brain like a film set.
Conscience will be supplied by Pokémon.
Your ragged past we dumped in the sand
with all the other nonrefundable rubbish.
Your future we desalinate for freshness.
Your anxiety you may feed to the birds
whose volume knob is next to your bed.
The on-off button is for self-control.
What you don’t have, you may shop for,
even Virtue with its bold new branding,
and an exciting user interface to die for.
Until the humming stops, the power dies
and stars arrive to mock the endless night
just say Yes to everything. Thank you.

Runner up in The Moth Prize,
Appeared in the Forward Anthology