DB Cox- A Poem

last chance motel

a rundown motel
clings to the shoulders
of a narrow highway
a blinking neon sign
shoots holes
through the middle
of a mississippi night
enfolded in the semidarkness
of a lamp lit room
a man leans over a table
etching straight-razor phrases
into the pages of a motel notepad

mind overturned
and burning
somewhere near kamdesh, afghanistan
lost
can’t find his way home
past the possibility
of finding things to count on:
like the orbit of the earth around the sun
like moon-swung oceans guided by gravity’s hands
like a lucky star to steer his feet
past lonely streets
that lead to places
like this last chance motel
where he sits
with pen in hand
a pistol on the table &
a bible in every room.