I work at the bar
of a quick hotel,
I take coffee upstairs
to those who make love.
they go up and down
pairs all the same,
I do not see them well,
even with the glasses.
But I remained there like a moron,
seeing those two arrive one morning.
Clean, polite, seemed artificial,
seemed just two saint paintings.
They asked for a room,
I made them see
the less disgusting,
the number three.
And I put newer linens on the bed ,
and like Saint Peter, I gave them the keys.
I gave them the keys of that paradise
and I closed the door on their smile.
I work at the bar
of a quick hotel,
I take coffee upstairs
to those who make love.
they go up and down
pairs all the same,
I do not see them any more,
I have no glasses.
But I remained there like a moron,
when I opened the door in that grey morning.
They were in a total silence,
leaving just two bodies in the bed.
I know that it's none of my business
however it is not right
to die at twenty years
and then just here.
I got them wrapped in white sheets
and they did the last trip alone.
Neither flowers nor people, only a van,
but the place where they go will be fine.
I work at the bar
of a quick hotel,
I take coffee upstairs
to those who make love.
I will be obsessed,
but who knows why
I do not want to give
the key of the three.