I watched on that weary night

From within the inelegant entrails

Of that jaded travel lodge,

An old ramshackle sign

Upon a pole with peeling paint

Facing the roadway droning:

“Vacancy, Vacancy.”


I remember a banana moon

Dawdling outside my motel window,

That out-sized open window,

 From whence my red-veined eyes spied

Across the street an old man

Fingering his beads, kissing the cross

Before entering the bar named Jezebel.


The pungent smell

Of warm, stale day old Coronas

Permeated the motel room,

A haze of putrid Pall Mall smoke

girdling the bare light bulb

Hanging from the ceiling

Like a hangman’s noose.


Through an alcoholic haze

Faded memories lurk,

Subtle reminiscences

Of sights, sounds and smells,

Of drunken emotions,

Of subtle sensitivities

Hiding in the shadows there.


Memories of that sultry eve still linger,

A stray cat in heat outside the window

Purring in perfect harmony

With the old fashion fan whirring

In the heat of that sticky summer night

The curtains rising in the shadows

Upon waves of excited, animated air,


Hot, dark musty air blustered

Through the dusty open window,

As I stared through the window,

Multilayered stars flickering in sync

With the buzzing neon sign at the curb

Murmuring its maddening mantra:

“Vacancy, Vacancy.”




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