you wake up in jersey

you find yourself
in a motel
room in new jersey.
you were too tired
to drive any further.
it smells like smoke.
bleach.
coffee brewing
in the machine in
the lobby, just down
the hall.
you listen to the couple
next door,
through the thin
walls make love
again. they are insatiable.
the loose headboard
bangs and bangs,
rattling
the painting above
your head of a ship
in a storm.
it's three a.m.
the thick yellowed
curtains are pulled
almost together,
the last inch
is a long bar
of neon light
crossing your bed.
there are trucks coming
and going.
someone is yelling
for ruby,
over and over again.
ruby, I know you're
in there. come out.
you think about turning
on the tv to blot
out the madness,
but this is much better.
you want to see how
things end.