Poems

Re: Modesto Motel

Ted Burke — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 17:45:34 GMT

I know the area, having played the carnival in Modesto, Stockton and Turlock. It was a funky hotel, in keeping with the seasonal clientele.

Hand to forehead “loser” salute.

denny — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 15:59:16 GMT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsJmzuKIEy8

d;-)

Re: Modesto Motel

HAP — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 15:49:53 GMT

I enjoyed your poem, Ted. I have driven through Modesto, many times. Here is a link from the city: http://www.ci.modesto.ca.us/about/arts.asp

(Fairness doctrine.)

It’s not unusual for some of us to refer to that area as Stockton, Modesto. Lodi. And, hot central valley summer nights…Yikes! Beats the hell out of Tucson, which is for the birds!

“so she gets a room of her own”

Hand to forehead “loser” salute.

Outstand Ted - BRAVO

denny — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 15:35:38 GMT

d;-)

Modesto Motel

Ted Burke — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 14:20:51 GMT

Modesto Motel

We haggle for a minute
over who pays
for the first night
so she gets a room of her own
in the middle
of a hot California night.

.

Outside the motel,
school boys scoop up the phone change

Dropped by junkies
walking back to the fairgrounds,

The blacktop lot
where license plates
are from fifty states
convene in rows
of bald tires
and dying headlights,

And where the ugliness of
air conditioning
is owned by
no one luckless enough
to sleep this night

Over an ice machine
whose motor grinds and clicks
with the he crickets
singing in the weeds.

Young men
in suits they'll return
by midnight
sip stupid drinks
with umbrellas in them ,
dreaming of bullshit
even as they say it
to teenage girls
added up to needle marks
apologies cannot remove,
this swimming pool
has no lifeguard.

I've been awake
all night in the room,
no sheets on the bed,
ceiling fan
circulating the hot, lived-in air,
the television
burning the farm channel,

a camera pans the set,
barometers tell
anyone awake who can read
where exactly

the earth will
surrender her riches,

diesel trucks arrive,
it's 4 A.M. in Modesto,

there's no more ice,
only the grinding of gears,

it's dreamtime in Modesto.