“Twenty-five dollars plus sheets”,
He wipes the grease from his crumpled brow as I the sweat from mine.
Excited flesh, weary heart – I grapple with my demons.
They scratch at my conscience, I scratch at my sides
as she echoes a remark about mine eyes.
Why am I hand-in-hand with a girl cheaper than the room?
Just flesh. I am to use this woman to escape the loneliness of my abandoned abode.
To traverse the wire that struggles to bind my mind as one.
I know not who I am, and yet I despise my reflection this night.
This is routine, and nothing more.
Now just another piece of the puzzle.
(Nothing compelled me to come this far)
Love’s Inn, but am I in love?
© Copyright April 1999 Joshua Smith
