TB Crossroads

TB Crossroads
city Virginia Alt. 26 Pop. 3139

The Buick coughed once and finally died
carburettor gone and electrics fried.
They had 10,000 dollars in a carpetbag
And Vonda had a shakin’ jones and no supply of skag.

A battered neon sign said Motel and Mayflower Suites.

Vic said, come on let’s hole up here:
I’m tired of runnin’ and I’m dyin’ for a beer.
And O’Brien grunted, maybe just dyin’ from what I hear.
Vic’s lip trembled and he looked a little queer.

Vonda smoothed her skirt round the blood on the pleats.

The desk clerk sighed and flipped the book
flipped it right back when he saw Vic’s look.
‘Two rooms, Sport, and take the phone off the hook
order up some beers and find a short-order cook’

Vonda stole a tablecloth to keep the blood off the seats.

O’Brien took the window on the room’s far side
Vonda used the chaise kept her eyes open wide
and Vic lay down on the Murphy bed supplied
lay waiting for his ham and eggs over easy fried.

The blood from his coughing fit stained a story on the sheets.