Lynne Bronstein's poem "Crayon Hotel"

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Lynne Bronstein is a veteran poet, fiction writer, and journalist. She has published five books, including Nasty Girls from Four Feathers Publishing. Her poetry and short fiction have appeared in everything from Playgirl to Chiron Review, from underground newspapers to National Public Radio. She writes the column Show Biz Cats, seen on Facebook. She wants to return to Paris because she didn’t see all the museums last time around.


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

Brazilian pitanga conditioner

Icelandic algae body gel

And Malaysian Kumquat body lotion.

Luxurious aromas sing Bon Jour.

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.

© 2022 Lynne Bronstein


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