• At the motel of fourth and no where was a call girl with yesterday eyes.

    Her mother pulled her ribcage open
    when she was 15, cleansing it
    because of her princess wannabe attitude,
    with imitation holy water.
    She was caught on the make-out hill-top
    with a boy that wreaked of chemical rum
    and oiled hair. Five years later --
    she pissed in her mother's boxed wine
    and her morals took a taxi cab.
    One way backseat ride
    ............to no-wheres-ville.

    Flung out onto a lone highway
    she pulled up her thrift store skirt,
    of faded apricot blossoms,
    to put her delicate leg out
    on the road for a ride.
    The man pulled over to lend a hand
    ( between the legs )
    to the city and shot gun to Eden.
    Rotten last week meal breathe,
    asking for a motel. She said yes.

    Curtains stay closed that night
    but everyone in those rooms
    could hear through the walls:
    heels at the bed frame
    making a rat-ta-ta jingle.
    Young woman becomes another sinking ship
    on those seedy sheets. Still squishy clear
    and drowning in a dead semen ocean.
    Spots and stains grace those linen waters,
    representing the lost souls of this place.

    The man became a dog without a collar on,
    wild when trying to make a mark on the woman.
    She just laid back, legs opened wide
    and her eyes stared upward
    putting her periscope perceptive
    of Godliness away.