Motel

A Poem by Lexi Morton

That plummy, rich scent lingers in the air: 

the only thing sweet about this place. 

Sitting on a picnic table bench, or on a fallen elm tree, you stare up into space. 

Behind those lavender walls, the ocean roars. You hope, one day, you’ll get what you wish for. Bruises on your arms, a bandaid on your thumb, wading through the everglades, waiting for the day to come. 

A pile of pancakes on a ceramic plate, 

you have a hunger you cannot satiate. 

The industrial fan whirs and grinds. 

When you enter that wretched room, 

you never know what you’ll find. 

Can you stay or is it time to go, 

out to the forest where the magnolias grow? 

You showed me this city through your eyes, 

and I began to see it in a whole new light. 

You’ve endured many a tribulation, 

but loneliness, you see, is quite a different fight. So, why don’t you close your eyes 

and wait a while? 

I bet you’ll find her over the fence, 

and by the burn pile. 

She’s probably nursing her wounds with ethanol, but you know she’d come at your beck and call.