night brought little clarity
between motel and slaughterhouse
it was a new jersey mythology
of white paint and brazen neon,
from the chevelle in the lot
they had come to meet
passed notes on realtor’s lined paper
two packs parliaments
hushed phone conversations
catalysts to the reaction
that imminent realization
of naked falling
upon bed worried with crumbs,
sheet shifted over sanitary cover
quilt shed to worn green nylon carpet,
by her side lay against her
it rested tacked by it’s own stickiness
to her leg,
now it was done
last moment devoid of thought
when she rolled it like a cigarette
licking with an anxious care,
this all for what,
that wooden mask of his face
expressionless
caressing her breasts
moving stiff fingers back and forth,
they where now derelict
in exploded rubble of emotion
it took her time to control her lip,
eyes could of burned,
but now all truth had been eliminated
and they would not see each other again
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