86
86
Miami , December 1 st
Lukewarm morning air slaps you like a half-cooked , half-frozen burrito . It ’ ll rain by midday you see it in the clouds
Your $ 20 microwave gargles as you start a decadent beef chimichanga spin-cooking .
Jimmy Dean fingers punch in two thirty-four . For luck .
– – –
The thick drops of rain are warm , calming , everywhere . Free . The water in your shower screeches from the faucet . Cold , choked you pay for every drop .
This rundown motel is falling apart ; rats outnumber tenants the orange shag carpet reminds you : a Woodie in 1972 . You remember living in that car . Now you live here . Do you own this motel ?
Fletcher Hagedorn