I wandered into a town I’d never been in
brand new but I’d seen it all before
check cashing places, tattoo shops, sub places, dollar stores; I put my head in my hands
tried to disappear like that cat in that story
but no such luck
that afternoon, I found an anonymous room in a shabby seen better days motel
checked in with the weight of a grand piano
on my shoulders for some reason
room with no lampshades on the lights
dead bugs smeared on the walls
there wasn’t much to do except stare
at the cracked gray wall that looked like a roadmap of Nebraska
so I figured, I’m dry and whiskey’s wet—I’m no saint
found a below the belt bar that was
a few notches below being a subpar bar
took a seat at the end of a table
that Wild Bill Hickok might have sat on
not far from the door///just in case
Jack McCall came in
and I’m holding two black aces and eights
some woman, a 6 on a good day sauntered over asked me if I wanted company
I wasn’t in the mood so I told her
I was an independent contractor
don't think she got the humor
but she got the message and vaporized
just wanted to drink and think and think and drink
lights around the bar were getting very fuzzy
so that was my cue to leave before they went out
or I passed out
got back to the room after walking/weaving through
a funhouse and Nebraska was waiting for me
slipped into sleepyland on washed too many times sheets that weren’t even pretending to be white
the morning came too fast
there was a sickly yellow glow
behind the dirty drapes that didn’t fit the window
I wanted to stay in bed but check-out time was 11
and it felt like the sword of Damocles
was hanging over my head
