notes from a hotel window:

Eighty two degrees

in the glittering night,

strung out

in the neon glow;

these words

seeping like blood

from every pore

in the simmering heat

rising from

the city street below.

And through

this fevered symphony

of bar room blare,

horn blast and whore song

I search the wreckage

for a single human face,

and for a moment

I see her there

like some beautiful goddess

in a chic blue dress;

before she vanishes

into the hot, spiralling night

and I am left alone

once more to find my solace

within the walls

of this glossed

and brittle palace.

U.V.Ray

15th March 2006

10:42pm.