There are no vacancies here
   Each room is filled with apparitions of
old friends
They hum things to remind you that
Your mind is a motel, and even the new visitors are in for the short stay
Transient like those before.
It is your fault, anyway.
Who wants to stay in a place that needs updating
is too muffled and muted
too much silence and not enough music
even your sheets worn threadbare, your curtains full of holes,
they welcome those who choose to come
and let them slam the door
when they leave.