motel insomnia

i can't sleep,

but

it's not because

of the bed, or the room,

the smell

of the place,

the mold,

the old smoke from

1988.

it's not the noise

of the tv

through the wall,

or the coughing

and arguing.

the hum of the radiator

making

it too hot

or too cold.

it's not the children

running down

the hall

at midnight.

a dog barking.

a strange knock at the door.

it's none of that.

it's the pillow, stiff

and hollow

as a raft

that won't fold.