deepundergroundpoetry.com
roadhouse Doll
sometimes a man needs to run away from
the dangerous, strangling hands of the city.
my jeep needed a breather after the long drive. she’s a
loyal steed, & I don’t abuse her. I parked in the lot of the
Starlite Motel, booked a room, & walked across the road
to the Silver Dollar roadhouse, whose tawdry, flashing neon
lured me to its iniquitous den.
a bar girl in a short skirt & cowboy boots came to my table.
sexiness hung on her like fairy dust, & it quick-like sparked
this old soldier’s libido. she took my order & returned shortly
with my burger & whiskey. ‘thanks, Doll,’ I said.
I gave her a twenty for a seven dollar tab, said keep the change.
she glowed like a sunflower, & put her hand on my shoulder.
‘Oh thank you sir!’ she lingered, & we talked about things that
strangers should keep secret. I told her I had a room that was all
full of lonely. she had a cure for that, she remarked, & her shift
ended in five minutes. I asked, ‘so what should I call you, Doll?’
she winked. ‘a name is just a name. I like Doll.’
in the room, we undressed in the wavering moonlight. she
touched a scar on my side from a bullet I took long ago, &
her silky fingers quelled the old fire.
we kissed: kisses like honey. it’s an ancient cliché, but it still
had value. I confessed that I hadn’t tasted that sweetness in
many moons. she smiled. ‘take all you want, lover.
my lips are always puckered.’
in the cool sheets, her arms circled me tight, her legs gripped
mine, & we drifted in a transcending slowdance that carried us,
almost weeping from the desperate glory of it, to a flaming
star just west of heaven…
this room. this woman. this was an oasis in my murderous
desert. let the night pass slow. real slow…
(art by Pino Daeni)
Published 12th Oct 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 17
reading list entries 9
comments 16
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The author encourages honest critique.
12th Oct 2014 1:21am
Companionship n beauty can both b found sometimes n the most unlikely places
Such a touching n beautiful write John
I love this one
Such a touching n beautiful write John
I love this one
12th Oct 2014 1:27am
I loved the imagery of her touching an old bullet scar.
I enjoy seeing the images as I read you.
I enjoy seeing the images as I read you.
12th Oct 2014 1:59am
12th Oct 2014 2:31am
John, I am such a fan of the art you choose to carve your tales from, great tales in forms of your wondrous poetry that is. Felt the instant connection of two souls understanding the others need of simple beauty formed in the most pleasurable way.
12th Oct 2014 2:40am
"& we talked about things that strangers should keep secret. I told her I had a room that was all
full of lonely."
Perfection
full of lonely."
Perfection
12th Oct 2014 3:52am
12th Oct 2014 5:50am
12th Oct 2014 8:13am
This reminded me of Harry Chapin's "A Better Place To Be"
A really well written honest piece
A really well written honest piece
12th Oct 2014 8:18pm
I envy you the words you seem to be full of to express such beauty. Always your faithful admirer, John.
14th Oct 2014 7:19pm
Such warmth radiates from this piece, John. This softer side is very sexy on you. Perfectly matching the way her sexy hung on her like fairy dust, god I love that. Only your words can quench my poetry thirst completely.
14th Oct 2014 11:52pm
That was a great piece of story telling my friend. I could almost hear 'blues in the night' music playing as I read this.
Echo lilsouthernbelle and Awakened Soul. An amorous interlude on a lonely journey is how I would best describe the plot. Favourite phrase: "we drifted in a transcending slowdance that carried us".
I might write a poem based on the picture.
I might write a poem based on the picture.
16th Oct 2014 11:11pm
20th Oct 2014 6:13am
May I also add, the pic could be captioned by the Eric Clapton song line: DARLING, YOU LOOK WONDERFUL TONIGHT (The girl in the song has "long blonde hair" like the one in the pic.)
Anonymous
27th Oct 2014 8:58pm
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26th Jan 2017 1:33pm
A feast for the eyes and the soul of a poet. There are just too many fantastic lines to choose a favorite.
Phenomenal work, John, just beautiful...
Phenomenal work, John, just beautiful...
