Lost: 1 family

After 4 days in California of being a voyeur on family life at Chez Richardson, I went to D.C. for two days to a standard American soul-less hotel.

What a horrid contrast:

• Before: intense sunshine light noise enthusiasm
  
• After: disdained overcast hermetically- sealed sedated bored
  

When I left the hotel, they gave me a bill.

When I left California, they gave me a poem.

While he was here we ate, drank, talked and laughed.
Now, he has gone.
The glasses go unemptied, the uneaten food begins to spoil.
His legacy: a key, a cable, some money.
And a bundle of cheese sticks.
I hope that when I go, I will leave cheese sticks too.

I think I like poems better than bills.