Parable in Which No One Else in the
Super 8 Breakfast Lounge Thinks 
About How This Hotel Might Outlive Us

Maybe the flatbed driver shrinking into the folds
of her sweatshirt is only thinking about salting
her hard-boiled egg. It could be that the well-dressed family
checking their Google maps above the crunch of
their overcooked waffles is only thinking about
whatever important thing it is for which they have
already parted their hair, applied their moisturizers.
Surely the man eating alone in the pinched-front sombrero
has so many other things to consider, he will
not notice the nearby woman in her pajamas pants
trying to steady a plate of pastries in the crook
of her elbow, whom he has not offered to help balance
a bowl of Lucky Charms beneath the spout of the milk.
But, woe unto all of us if not for the lady coming now
through the corridor, her sleeveless tee aflutter
in the light of the vending machines. Who does
she not see as she offers to take one of the teeming
foam cups another girl attempts to maneuver around
a cleaning cart, pauses to let the girl grab
the room key from her back pocket.
If the woman is not thinking about
how much longer the planet can hold us,
then why does she bother? What would I do
without you, the girl asks, as if to say,
What would any of us do if not
for the magic accident of other people?
The woman takes the cup into the soft curve
of flesh between her thumb and forefinger,
cradles it like a bean holds a sprout head.
You’d spill your coffee, she says,
as if reading a fortune. An incantation
to break the curse.