Hotel Noir

Two glasses on a glass-top table. Lights are low,

The ashtray's full. he talks of all his conquests--letters

Ringed with hearts and crosses. He left them in the

Drawer (at Hotel Noir)--unanswered, yet he read

Them for her time and time again . . . She looked

Clean through him and told him how she loved

White horses, riding on a swing and laying in a

Cornfield on a warm summer's night. She'd watch

The dancing lights. Alone but never lonely--until

Now. He ordered whisky but the waiter walked clean

Through him. He sadly shook his head, and lit his

Fifteenth cigarette . . . and slowly, surely pictures for-

Med he never could forget . . . Loretta sent him sea

Shells, Henrietta sent a rose, and Margaretta said

They'd marry in a letter that he'd never answered

(left it in the drawer at Hotel Noir . . .) And she said

How she loved the sea at full moon. Running down

A silver beach with silver ribbons trailing from her

Hands. She found a doorway in the sand where

She'd store away her stones. Precious stones that

Could be diamonds, just because they sparkled in

Rain. And there she'd sleep, and there she'd

Dream. And there she died. The tide rolled

Backwards and it dried and left a headstone made

Of salt. The warm breeze turned to steam. And even

The vegetables screamed and screamed and

Screamed . . . He stretched his hand out just to touch

Her--but she said she had to leave . . .