hotel room (a poem)

The July 31st prompt in The Daily Poet: Day-By-Day Prompts For Your Writing Practice, by Kelli Russell Agodon & Martha Silano, is to write “a gritty, gutsy, and/or groveling poem that includes at least six of these words: stilettos, hangover, whiskey, cigarette, dying, love, begging, naked, jail, dog, hotel. For extra credit, address the reader.” I’d already written something, but decided to give this a shot, anyway. I don’t know that it’s particularly gritty, gutsy, and/or groveling, but here it is…

I was dying for the cigarette
that stuck to your heel
turning the clacking of your stilettos
on the wooden floor of the hotel room
into the equivalent of a coarsely dotted line
badly printed

Though I didn’t particularly smoke
I needed something—anything—
to counter the bitter aftertaste
of the only whiskey that was left
when the good stuff ran out
(Plus we all know how well booze and smokes go together)

Begging to be let out of the jail I was locked up in
would have been pointless at best
seeing as how it was of my own construction
All I could do was to drool like a rabid dog
at the mental image of your naked body
beneath the curves of your dress

The hangover—love not necessarily involved—
that was inevitably to follow
would be a welcome distraction
from the whole sordid scene
Surely you knew this—
it’s why you kept the drinks coming, wasn’t it?

Well, my dear
I’ve got news for you:
I used your card to pay for the room

(31 July 2014)