felt comfortable

It was getting to late afternoon

I was tired from a long day

of stop start hot sticky driving

stopped at the first hotel

I saw

just south of paris

it was dark & dingy

over a sports bar

old in that French way

where the wallpaper has shiny places

& the carpet only has holes

in the tread spots

I carried our bags upstairs

balancing a cold beer

while she whined about the house

not that she was paying

of course

monsieur was winking at me

as I handed over cash

she was sat at the bar

two fisted

beer to the left

vodka & coke on the right

c’est bon he said

oh yeah, I sang back

a beast

he sensed the tone change

& gave me a pen

If you tilted it the female figure

lost her clothes

he winked again

looked at her at the bar


bonne nuit m’sieur

it was at that moment

I realised I’d booked us

into a brothel for the night

no wonder she felt comfortable



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