Loose handle Insert Key Lift it slightly Try for three. Feet - The only smell Sweat soaked leather shell. Four bunks, eight beds - Here’s yours There’s mine Fall asleep at closing time. Flick the cockroach off Then the dead moth. Bed sways It’s late - Somebody below Someone I don’t know. Even later - Through the open window A woman’s voice: “That’s not okay. That’s not okay!” Roll over, turn away Hold my breath til Monday.
Apartment bedroom’s Windows open Lie beneath the duvet Head tipped back. See the jagged silhouette of trees Cutting that empty black. Hear the leaves scratch the concrete The floorboards above creak The man below speak - Drunk, loud, Pink Floyd on vinyl. Catch the old elevator down To the ground floor. Go outside, by the garages Quietly finish your cigarette. Stamp it out. Leave again, become replaced by headlights returning. The two emerge, bodies yearning. Her heels drag He slips the keys into his pocket - A gesture of success After eyes all day on that short blue dress. Wind through the trees Salt on the leaves Street cleaner. Black room Black flat Trip on the curled edge Of the coarse door mat. xx Lou