The Wide Side of the Bed.

The Dalai Lampa

The Wide Side of the Bed

Camped in the hinterlands of this hotel bed, 
Bivouacked above the covers, 
Staring out across the sheets. 
The opposite of akimbo, 
Curled fetal as a fist, 
There's a thunderhead of pillows
Above the wide side of the bed.

My own Ice Station Zebra,
My personal South Pole,
My five hundred thread count percale ice floe.
Was it something that I didn't say
Or something that I said?
Now I'm hunched on the horizon
Of the wide side of the bed.

The air conditioner is blowing 
Out of the North, by the vent.
The bedside lamp's a lighthouse 
But all my ships have sank.
Was it something that I didn't mean 
Or something that I meant?
Staring at the unthawed distance
Of the wide side of the bed.