alone in a hotel room i don't miss home i think 

i think of what all i could fit inside
the tiny hotel fridge
two rows of bottles clink against each other 
when i tug on the door
rain turns to glass
glass to rain
smaller versions of wine bottles
each too small to climb inside
i could fit maybe four books 
inside the hotel fridge
if i laid the books sideways
or maybe all the clothing
from my suite case
all folded up like i never do
because i hate folding 
& i hate packing 
i prefer to crumple t-shirts & pants 
each like a carnation 
pressed under textbooks
it makes traveling feel less real
like a sleepover
a commitment to going home 
& i am going home just not now
open the door of the fridge again 
a cold mouth full of glass
i take out all the drinks 
& line them up on the soft floor
my guests
a little parade
spread them out so they don't touch
they make a wall
they hold hands without having hands
i could empty them each
in the clean white sink
just to see the pouring
just to have an empty fridge 
to climb into 
i wonder if it could lead somewhere
putting my whole head inside
the whirl of refrigeration
blue taste 
dull white glow
i imagine the people who clean rooms coming
to ready my room for the next guest &
finding the fridge door open
getting on their knees to peer inside 
& finding no one
just a small tunnel in the fridge
where i would sit on the other side
in a room full of television screens
playing videos of everyone
who ever stayed in the same hotel room
not just images of them living in the room
but their whole lives
pressing hands to windows
climbing inside fridges
the room still cold 
the walls still fridge white
& in the distance 
the ever present gentle sound
of bottle clinking against bottle
fingers clinking against fingers
taking off my clothing 
& stepping on my shirt & pants like carnations
but i don't go inside
not tonight
i put all the bottles back
on my knees
they clink as i set them in their rows
lay out on the bed
try to imagine the other people's bodies 
who've laid there 
night after night