Motel Nativity Scene
A bald headed girl sits driver-side, bored of waiting rooms,
watching paint curdle and flake, bits of words falling
like snow, off of an illegible
plywood sign. A neon light which
reads “ O Vacancy” buzzes in the window.
It kicks inside her and she remembers how
the first thing she thought of was how the the fresh ink
that
curved around her bellybutton would stretch and how
the first thing he thought of was how fast he could get
four hundred thirty seven dollars and if there was tax
on things like that. She had been here before. But she did
not notice
the plywood,rotting,
She did not hear the sign buzz, “A classy
place, because we are going to remember this forever” His voice was
soft and convincing, like his skin as it pressed against
hers. The same voice
she hadn’t heard, the same skin she hadn’t felt, since she
told him
the things that the pastor said, “You’re so young” and “You
know that is
a sin” and “Everything that happens in this world happens
at the time God chooses.” He and God must have disagreed
on that. So she carried it away. Away from Herod in a grease
stained wife beater, with a temper to match. There would be
no star to guide her and she had never met a wise
man in her life. He seemed wise once
when he used to run his hands through her hair. Hair she
left in a pile
on her sister’s kitchen floor, so that she could see
where she was going and get his feel off of her head.
A bald headed girl sits driver-side, looking down at her
stomach
peeking out of her shirt, his name sprawled there
warped and barely legible.
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