Panhandled

on our way to Alberquerque when we stop for the night. neon light humming Vacancy. your ass-cheeks humming surrender dorothy after ten hours of shit-roads and gravel detours. Doc says Somewhere in the Panhandle. light a Red while Swedish rubs her eyes and Doc goes to the office.
Swedish. we met her after the show in Peyton, Arkansas at some pokey truck stop. Doc needed Flamin hot Cheetos. I needed sunglasses and cigs. she needed to get to Denver. my hands were down her pants when Doc missed the turn-off. Shit, he says. I wanna see Alberquerque, she says. Now we're some sort of couple.
Doc comes back and tells me they only got one room. 241. I ask him how thin the walls are. He laughs and says not thin enough.

the insect working the front desk is watching some late-night sermon on a green-tinted television. He says Angie's, but they don't serve after 2, and it's 1:49. Sure they do off-sale, but you gotta erry up, he says. the tv preaches But as the Devil lives among us, so does the Lord, my brothers and sisters.

it's 2:23 and behind Angie's. that bitch. I climb into the Nissan when this Dyson comes out. he rocks a denim cutoff and bandana. i realize with one punch he could kill me. He says Where the Hell you think you're going? I say Hell. he says You fuckin right. I try to get in the car but it all happens so fast and I come to with a crust on my face and a killer headache.
could be worse.
fuck.
the crust ain't blood.
wait.
wallet.
keys.
yes. it could be worse.
I crawl back into the truck and try to focus on white line after white line. zing my teary eyes. bloody nose got rusty pipes. fucker stole my cigs. that homo fuck. road is black and mauve, all the way to motel I slander the fags while the radio preacher talks of Divine Mercy and Justice and Sanctity of Marriage.

back at Room 241. Doc’s sleepin on the bed and Swedish is about to shower. Takes off my clothes and Nothin, must have bruised it at the show. Steamy pink skin and wet dirty hair, hands all over, bites my lip hard. Draw my blood. wet, wet, Ouch that hurts, moaner not a screamer, mover not a shaker.

next day tv preacher says the Lord forgives only if you ask. Doc honks and I give Sweedish a kiss on the forehead. she breathes soft in her sleep. I whisper in through the curls to her ear Maybe we'll meet up in Alberquerque.

tv preacher says Only the Word, my Brothers and Sisters, can save your Soul...

-rooster

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