First poem in a long time

Deaf and Mute

I find myself living
at the Roadway Inn.
Cars from the highway rattle the rooms.
Walking toward my motel room,
a deaf mute,
my apparent neighbor,
opens his door a crack,
and sticks his head out.
Signals me
by holding a hand up to his ear
(pinkie and thumb protruded making a phone).

I've been living inside these rooms
for three days afraid of my corrupt neighbors,
and think of this fear
while this man's wife,
also a deaf mute,
uses sign language to talk to me.

So, this is the American Dream.
Just me,
and this deaf mute couple.
Even them,
they just want to eat,
want me to call their daughter,
and see if she's coming soon with food.

But, you see, there is a strange man
standing in his doorway at room 608,
waiting for something I can't see,
and this couple's daughter isn't
coming for another day,
and the deaf and mute husband looks up astonished,
as his wife has just tried to speak to me.