Reynolds & Midway XXXV.

Where went the black sedan when the night closed

and winter whisperd crisp among the streetlights;
when jealous husbands cruncht on bully tires
slowly around the 'one-night cheap hotels'
where behind counters weary nite clerks dozed

& bolted televisions droned w/ smut

or local news & radiators billowd
easy heat for traveling salesmen, tight
Canadian nookie peddlars, tired tourists,
& wand'ring souls with ulcers in the gut

who read in Gideon's bible the smeard print

of thumbs that also lookd for consolation
or possible escape routes from the gaze
of God Who watchd over each motor lodge
& sent his angels in the cautious squint

of housekeepers, Who gleamd in their dark eyes,

their brown & callusd fingers; where repose
was written in the hint of areoles,
the subtle contours of the pelvic carriage,
the music of trilld speech, the clack of keys?

Hidden by smokestaind blinds the long legs stretcht

along a borrowd bed; a borrowd wife
beneath his writing arm, the flaccid bicep
hairless, harmless as a sleeping child's,
& at the wrist a fat, gold-banded watch

where time clickd like the crash of distant glass.

In one more hour, he thought, timing his thought
to each slow shift & breath of her whose sleep
was precious to them both, and I'll have come
of age. Close by, determined headlights passd.

1.16-17.14