Sunrise Rose Inn

Six neatly rolled towels were gathering
Dust on a high shelf in the motel. Spares,

Like the guest in the room for five nights,
Stashed there until a rental was repaired.

Excess and insufficiency balanced
The way worn-out boxers clutch each other,

Half-leaning, half-punching the other down.
There’s always too much. There’s never enough,

Never enough for the always too much,
Spare tenant, spare towels gathering dust.

Where the drawn motel drapes failed to quite touch,
The dawn spun a sundial out of old rug.