Hotel nights

The ubiquitous typewriter lies nearby
to the pen, the pad and the jug of wine.
I try to escape from the solemnity of this evening,
though the effortless words do not suffice.
They merely liberate me from this anguish
just for a few blissful moments.
At least they keep me at arms length
from the rest of the world.
The night is heavy with anticipation or disappointment.
Only the storm can release the tension.

Raindrops scurry across the glass pane
like the delicate motion of purposeful ants.
I spy the black tree skeletons that hover and sway
in the dark grey ethereal night.
The velvet curtains cascade,
flowing over the window frame like a waterfall.
She walks in front of my line of sight;
the silhouette of her nakedness envelops me.
I taste the melange of her sweat and perfume in my mouth.
I light another cigarette and remember.