three days two nights

on the flat wall
of the cheap motel,
below the vacancy sign,
white with blue trim,
red doors,
white in the sun, a harsh
squared glare,
the faces
then bodies come out
to lean
and stare down at the boardwalk,
to the ocean
with all its
blueness.
you see them yawn, red
faced
from drink and sun,
sleepy,
half dressed, some smoking,
some with instant
coffee in their hands.
the gulls chirp,
diving into the water,
the littered rolls
of warming
sand.