errol miller
AT THE HOTEL RITZ
That night
on the 8th of June
we went there for Mozart's music
and meat grilled to perfection
for white wine and pampering
and dazzling hours filled with show-things
pressing francs in to the doorman's hand, he smiled
contriving to serve us Proust, we could only
spare a dime for his efficient luxury
what guests want today is a small European village
locked into their hearts, after-dinner sex
and a chance to express themselves
there are regular customers for this, wealthy exiles
form the North Shore who will buy anything
we meet them late at night, discussing
Queen Victoria, wanting steamy chicory coffee
bed and breakfast with diplomacy and a fluffy omelet
with green peppers and Tabasco sauce, reserving
an eye for the paintings and the sculpture
seems like old times at the Majestic
we may find ourselves or look a little further
trying to remember gratitude, praising
our soul, Kings and Queens ourselves we are
paying for all of this and therefore deserve
the very best, perhaps a cigar or a kiss
or a Sand&Sable hand to hold
through the coming solstice season.
