down the hall there's ice

it's a roadside

motel

on the way to the beach.

the fields

are cut,

the rows of green gone.

the corn

harvested,

the soy and

sea of beans

are in cans now. 

the world is flat again,

as i check in.

free wi-fi

the sign says.

color tv.

i open the door to what

hell must

be like.

how can anyone stay

here more

than one night

without killing themselves.

the hard

bed,

the hard pillow,

the smell of cigarettes

and sin.

someone has even lifted

Gideon's Bible from the skinny

drawer.

but down the hall,

there's ice.