The colour scheme, all of the fittings, even
the rectangular reproduction,
above the bed, of an abstracted landscape
that might be desert or water, sunrise
or dusk reflected in the wardrobe’s mirror
were exact replicas of all those
he had already seen in all the rooms
he had stayed in the centre of cities,
on the edge of towns, at all compass points.
There was always, however, one difference –
the view. Through the sealed, double-glazed window
he could see an empty office block
with one blind still drawn on the sixth floor.