A Motel Room

10 by 8 feet, that too generous in dimension

On the outskirts of a run down alley

A motel room where leaking rainwater 

Trickles in to a plastic bucket

A place lit with mushroom toned walls with a hint of beige

Possessing an empty dustbin that has been cleared in haste

Leaving behind a foamy-colony of semen

What had seen cigarettes-armed men and smoking-hot Venuses

Exchange a lot of love, and perhaps a little bit of disease

Spilling cheap Rum and Coke on seed-stained sheets

Where lust splits open zippers and thrush sheds light down oblong caves

A place of flaky characters and shady acts

What will be rented by the demi-hour and paid by a handful of notes

A room lit with one 100w bulb and beaming men crying in ecstasy

Where amidst the racket of love

Is a veneration of a practice that unites both history, the present and the future

A paltry cabin unifying need with greed

Where walls fed with nicotine smoke, soak lingering echoes

Of thespian antics and obscure fetishes

Where the interplay of fantasy and theater on a stage of a well-lit room

Sends bliss from sentient tips to the depths of man

A place where strangers meet, greet and fleet

Where a meager prize is attributed

To an act that will always be 

The soul of man’s freedom


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