Florida Motel Poem by aurin squire

Front desk alias, split cash tab before.
Side of Florida highway, cars shake the walls.
Wedged splintered door into damp carpet floor.
Slipped passed clerk when he reached for night calls.

Red vomit in the bathtub wafts a stench.
Our Previous was an alcoholic.
We threw our jeans on the bench.
Swallowed our fast food and held in the sick.

We both knew a bad disease in progress.
Spontaneity sapped and the thrill is dead.
But we went ahead, no time to regress.
Ramming the thin wall with the motel bed.

Sighing back to his car we didn’t talk.
Head slung low, the Florida motel walk.