The Room

We were swigging red wine
I don’t like beer
This one was really good
Among the crowd
A terrace on the pavement
Some carrying suitcases
The one without wheels
Is waiting for me
A couple of things
And I quickly find myself
On the train
I turn to look at the room
It’s full of some writings
Beauty products
Lipsticks…red, lilac, used,
Brand new
Nuances under consideration –
Necessary or not?
Dirty cups of coffee
On the table
Funny fingerprint
Marks at the bottom
Future foretold

The Room

Tomato juice in the fridge
Gone bad
After I leave
Whose room will it be?
Who will hide a picture from me?
Who will scatter my things around?
Somebody with long beautiful hair
Wearing beige make up
Or the hand with black nails and
A barbed wire tattoo
Etched on the wrist
Can rooms change one’s appearance?
Theirs or mine?