Trying to Remember Myself


     
                    after Stanley Kunitz 

I wake in a brown hotel room
and things are changing.
My body is swelling with white 
light and there’s a song playing
somewhere inside a static speaker.

Outside the wind is turbine grey
and a red corvette revs beneath
the rain. I hear my mother and father
in the next room. They sound happy
the way lovers sound when drinking
gin while spinning under an ochre moon.  

When I call there is no answer
and when I check the phonebook
it shows their names followed by:
disconnected in another world. 
I keep trying anyway.

I give up, and retreat back to bed 
with my love. When I sleep 
there’s an escalator that carries 
me to where they are,

and I watch them in my translucent 
skin as I move through their skin
saying, I just need to touch you.