My father had a mustache,
But not his father or his brothers
I am very tempted

In the new hotels
The elevators are often so dark
The mirrors are useless
(Like this one)

I don't want to go anywhere
I've been to the Acropolis (1959)
I sat on the old stones
And was photographed with a woman (1970)
Who troubled my life
From then until now (2008)

Dying in reasonable circumstances
Is mostly what I hope for
But here I am on the road
Far from reasonable circumstances

There is a woman I like
She is young and beautiful and kind
And cannot sing
But she wants to be a singer
I used to keep a full picture of her
Hidden on my laptop
Then I thought:
I can't do this again
And I dragged it (reluctantly)
To the little trash basket
Which I did not empty for quite a while

In the elevator
Of the Manchester Malmaison Hotel
I have to put on reading glasses
To find the button for my floor
The corridors are dark purple
Lit with pinpoint lights
Bass-heavy hip-hop
Dooming the generation
From hidden speakers
You squint to find your door

(The entire enterprise
Of travel and lodging
Now pitched
As a dangerous erotic adventure)

I'm no one to say
Who can or can't be a singer
God knows my own credentials
Were not extensive
It was Good Fortune
As success always is
Period
(A really lovely person
I don't have to introduce
To anyone at Sony)