Los Angeles, Night, A Hotel Room

Posted: September 23, 2007 in Beauty, Imagery, Life, Love, Musings, Romance

“I live in a city at night.”
I inhale; the smoke curls into my lungs and I remove the cigarette from my mouth. Tipping my beer forward I breathe into it, and smoke swirls above liquid like fog over a lake.
“I don’t dream. Not anymore.”
Silence can be heard in the bathroom where she’s been putting make up on for the past hour while I talk. This hotel room stinks of that sterilized, fake and clean smell, the one that shows you people shouldn’t last long here. It keeps me jittery and unable to keep quiet.
“It’s all just nightmares now, I guess. Everything that’s wrong with the world, it’s there every night.”
It’s weird, really. I’m just saying whatever comes into my head and listening to the ticking of my watch next to my head, ticking in time with the music coming from the bedside radio. I sigh and set my beer down on the chipped brown table, the one with the clock and its red digital numbers glowing dully, the one with the Gideon Bible set in the first drawer, dust covering it for many years now. The cheap bed lamp with a new, environmentally safe fluorescent light bulb.
“You’re easy to talk to, you know that?”
Everyone else just waits to get their own opinions in. I wait.
“…are you ready?”
“Yeah, hold on a sec.”
I had almost expected no response. I lean back on the bed and slip the cigarette into the small opening on the beer bottle. Smoke still slowly rises to the top and pours over the edge, dissipating into the air.
It’s been another twenty minutes.
“Liz?”
The shaft of light from the bathroom throws my prone figure into stark contrast onto the back wall.
“Hi.”
Liz saunters to the bed and bends to me, lips soft and inviting as they touch my own. Her hair feels so fine, so real as it brushes against the stubble on my face. She smiles, the action shrouded in the half-light of the hotel room.
“You won’t be in a city tonight.”
Liz.
“We’ll have fun.”
God, I love her.
“You’ll dream. You’ll dream of more than what’s wrong with this world, too.”
She comes close for another kiss. She laughs into my mouth and her fingernails dance on my knee. The scratching nails tingle sweetly, a spark of affection that makes me pull her close.
“You’ll dream of love.”
We stand, we go to my car.
A 1970 Chevrolet Camaro with the top down idles under my control; my hand rests on the steering wheel and the other tilts Lizzie’s chin back and I gaze at the beauty before me. The baby-blue eyes are filled with a warmth that I’ve missed and her dark hair flows gracefully around her head.
The car roars as I step on the gas, and we are gone.
Gone.
Driving away from the cheap, fake motel, I look at Liz, long hair whipped around by the wind. I’m grateful for the feeling of air rushing around the car and our bodies and I don’t want the moment to end.
Tonight I’ll dream of love.

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Comments
  1. goodnightcat says:

    Luke, we need to hang out and create mayhem. Call me.
    PS: This is fucking awesome, I love your progressive style.

  2. larkie says:

    Oh lawd, so I like this one better than everything else. Cheap motel rooms and light images and a Gideon’s Bible. I am a sucker for all of those things though not in the traditional sense on any of them. [I confess that ‘…her dark hair flows gracefully around her head.’ really bothers me for some retarded reason.] But IGNORE THAT, probably, because this is win and unicorns lovie.

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