Ahh yes,
That dank motel has many stories,
Each room a storybook of flesh,
A rogues gallery of sorts,
In a cloak of cigarette smoke,

This room here,
Contains a beggarly prodigy of paint,
A Picasso in poverty,

That room there,
It contains a young couple in love,
Fleeing a pair of oppressive households,

That room at the end,
The lady there killed her decorated husband,
For striking her one too many times,

The road has all kinds of refuse,
Much finds its way here,
Travellers and outcasts of all shades,
Drawn like moths to its neon sign,
A haven on these backroads,

A den to sleep in,
A hole to fade in.

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Comments
  1. Always love the expression “a rogues gallery” Well done👍👍

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