the visitors come and go
when they’re here; vowed to never-leave and drink your wine
when they go; the beds are re-made and pampered in no-time
sad to have never really cooked them dinner
with spices and passion in a loving brisket
he runs a guesthouse and lives life through passers-by
enjoying the reflective abandon of time and change
you can stay here for free: just pay in smiles, you happy?
the guesthouse will always welcome past patrons
especially in the summer rain, when it arrives after midnight
and he’s still awake
there will always be a check-out time
no more fun, no funds, death, deportation
but a simple note from each visitor, written on the bathroom door
is reason enough to treasure the remnant of a loved guest
they leave words of the utmost wisdom, sometimes
and sometimes, simply “where the fuck am i?!” is enough
this guesthouse grows a little wiser each time
and visitors are always welcomed back
to tell stories of adventure, the world
and learning where their experience lack