A desperate night of shelter

A desperate night of shelter.

The youth hostel woman
caked black mascara from
Australian eyes, as
she handed us the key.
The little clanging elevator ride,
a near cry from 39,000 feet
of RMNP.
Dank odor and urine piss
crawled into our nostrils, as
rain drip dropped outside the window.
Blisters burn and clothes soak
within the dim room.
The window watched the
rain, and my socks hung
sizzling on the radiator.
A fuzzy wool blanket,
dusty from days of sleep, lay
with clean sheets and discarded
travelers.
The accents are aplenty and
phone calls few as a
bilingual bistro cries
in the common room.
Tomorrow we will move on.