it was a clean room

it was a clean room
with a view, as requested,
over the outstretched lot

to a bulging sea, neither green
or blue, but a
whirl of violet
under no sun.

the squared room was

tidy, hardly a speck of dust
on
the dresser, or sill.

a simple sink,
a toilet. a black comb
left behind
by someone.

a mirror to shave in.
a rented room on the way
somewhere.

his suitcase on the bed
opened

to the next shirt he would
wear.
the black pants, a tie.

dress shoes,
polished before leaving,
still holding
the shine

of yesterday.

it was not a plan he saw
coming. the gun, a fist curled
black
in its case,
the silver pill he slid into
chamber.

it was just time to end things
there,
in this clean room,
with a view, as requested.