opening night — live music
drugs at the table, skin on stage —
he hails a cab, names a hotel
New York City is not my turf
I’ve no idea where I am
the room so dark, so gray, so grim
smell of others before me & yes
urine, mold, stale dust
a metal bed low to the floor
he sits me down & looms
I’ll come back in the morning
I’m alone — street noise, bands
of yellow light, I close my eyes
why did he leave?
what’s he doing now?
outside the door men's voices
walk back & forth, by morning
who’s to say I won’t be dead?
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