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Motel 6 Mother
John K., Wayland, MA

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By Alex C., Ft. Lauderdale, FL

Cigarette in hand
She drank to the night
And bled silver sequins and fluorescent Vegas signs
Thankless fingers diamond-lined
Traced the edges of dish-washed paper cup
So hungry for absolution she lapped old lovers up
She fervently wished love canned
Over counter dinner Spam
No empty single mother's suitcase and hotel room-bound
Lied to in a promise land
With babes so sound in double beds
Visions of daddies, morning mass dancing in their heads
Swollen heart
She lies and perspires
Dirty fingernails part battered Harlequins
How she wishes for youth, passionate embraces in all-night bus stations
Solace found in old jazz records and minibar wine
Always longing for a paint-by-number life, a passage of time


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