Crayon Hotel

Cher Hôtel Crayon,
Merci pour le bon moment que j'avais à votre hôtel. J'ai oublié de retourner l'une de mes clés et la carte est jointe. 

Like Belle of Beauty and the Beast
I am in a house where everything lives!
The elevator is a small box,
Perfumed,
And when it stops at my floor
A female voice
Says “Premiere Etage.”

In my room there is a drawing
scrawled on the wall above my bed,
someone crouching
in what seems to be an erotic pose.
For my bath I am greeted by 
Moroccan fig soap
New Zealand kiwi shampoo
Brazil pitanga conditioner
Iceland algae body gel
And Malaysian Kumquat body lotion.
"Bon Jour," the luxurious aromas sing.
I walk down a spiral
staircase, each step a different color,
to the breakfast room
where the colors turn to flavors,
violet fig and
strawberry jam.
Myrtle savauge 
And honey.
I gorge on croissants, 
jams and chocolat.
The laptop says "Bon Jour." 
The A is where the Q should be.
I can’t find the M right away.
The At sign must be reached through Alt.
My emails will be typed in a new language.
In the unusual heat I stand at my window
Look out on a pizza parlor, a sushi place,
A narrow street,
Damp from a morning spraying.
Bon matin bon matin 
I think the day is sunny.
On my TV set are elephants speaking French
But they are not wearing crowns.
They could not be Barbar and Celeste.
Unless Barbar and Celeste
Have abdicated and are now
Living as civilians.

It’s a dream
Of crayons
that color everything.
But I am strangely
Alone,
Like Belle,
The only one for whom this all exists.
I must pinch myself
And remember
This is only for a week
And I will have to pay a bill
And snap out of the dream 
Of this
Fairy tale hotel 
Carved out of an old six story mansard roof building.
I come home after the dream and find 
I still have the key to my room
And must send it back.
Expedia asked me to write a review.
This is it.

Lynne Bronstein
Van Nuys, CA USA
Donated to ASPCA