Asheville
It was a bourbon Friday night as
we followed a candy cigarette
dangling from our guide’s lips.
Want one? she asked
speaking around the sugar tube
Trying to quit, I said.
The hotel was a shopping complex at one time
featuring glass boxes for the display of old dresses.
Outside, there were voices and thumping sounds –
people always seem to shout louder at night,
but are gone when the daylight creeps in,
leaving the hoppy flavor of ale and the licorice
of negroni like a shadow on the curb.
JD DeHart is a teacher and writer. He has been published in Eye On Life Magazine, The Commonline Journal, and Red Fez, among others. His work is also forthcoming in a variety of publications, and his website is spinrockreader.blogspot.com.