RODEWAY TO HAYDEN ISLAND

3:15a

Fire alarm.
Third night in a row.
Fire alarm rips me from sleep,
TV still on Halloween Wars.

This place has a sordid history.
Hayden Island,
just north of Portland,
on the border between Oregon and Washington.

Found myself,
where I brought myself,
in the remaining hotel wing,
of a formerly abandoned hotel,
call Thunderbird Inn.

2016.
Thunderbird Inn,
burnt to the ground,
leaving only thing,
cauterized from ash,
cut off from fire,
preserved.
Now, a Rodeway Inn.

3:20a

Putting on some clothing,
to run outside,
fire alarm at the keeping up.

Throw open hotel room door,
dog in leash,
and at the moment,
the alarm ceases.

3:22a

Back in bed.

For the past three nights,
every 3:15a,
fire alarm sounds.

9:05a

At the lobby desk,
ask the question of,
what are the alarms for?

They have no recollection,
or anything listed in their night manager notes.

This place has a sordid history.

Before the great fire of 2016,
that took out the hotel,
there was a fire,
in 2012,
that took out 250 boats,
at the island's marina.

10:04a

Walking the dog,
on the island,
1 mile from the hotel,
a place called Lotus Isle Park.

1930
Lotus Isle Amusement Park opens.

1932
Lotus Isle Amusement Park is no longer.

Take a look: http://offbeatoregon.com/1209b-lotus-isle-amusement-park-a-swindle-gone-awry.html

11ish a

Rain continues.
Hop over the fence that cuts off the Rodeway from the carnage of fire.
Nothing there,
except a sneaker,
rampant weeds,
and a key attached to a circular keychain marker that reads "EARL 102".

Floating houses on the floating river,
gated community,
unless you know how to swim.

This island is strange,
bizarre.

Been sleeping with the tv on,
sound quite diminished,
because of the thing,
that thing,
that doesn't feel right.

In the far stretch of the parking lot,
nestled amongst barbed wire fencing,
shipping containers,
broken cars,
is an RV,
with a sign,
spray-painted in hot pink,
"STAY OUT".

And at the RV,
are three trees,
the middle of one of blood red leaves,
that do not fall,
in the wind and rain.

At night,
this place feels miserable,
out of place,
of joint,
graveyard.

Tonight,
at 3:15a,
I will not get any sleep.