Lowry, Malcolm: Delirium in Vera Cruz

Where has the tenderness gone, he asked the mirror

Of the Biltmore Hotel, cuarto 216. Alas,

Can its reflection lean against the glass

Too, wondering where I have gone, into what horror?

Is that it staring at me now with terror

Behind your frail, tilted barrier? Tenderness

Was here, in this very retreat, in this

Place, its form seen, cries heard by you. What error

Is here? Am I that forked rashed image?

Is this the ghost of love which you reflected?

Now with a background of tequila, stubs, dirty collars,

Sodium perborate, and a scrawled page

To the dead, telephone disconnected?

... He smashed all the glass in the room.

(Bill: $50)