AT THE INN

We checked out
at the Vermont inn
after a cup of java
and a spinach croissant
putting my motorcycle
in the vagrant parking lot
when a sunken eyed poet
who has heard me read
the night before
acting out of sight
asks me if he can cab share
and sleep on my attic floor
I wonder if this Greek Byron
who is a twink
a twenty something bar fly
who showed up in midnight
asking me for a match
but acting high as a kite
who tried to catch
a ride with me
told me he knew my aunt
from nearby
who always came though
when he needed money
or a place to stay
or for more drinks
but that he had a bar fight
as we said goodbye
and have twenty winks.