TV news broadcasts the motel dark,
she lies flat, belly soft with rabbit tattoos,
ash smudged into the sheets.
My boots drip clay and pesticide,
fingers stained from counting nickels.
Outside, a pumpjack bows to the ground,
over and over,
like it’s praying.
She whispers something about escape.
I kiss the scar beneath her jaw,
taste motel soap and Marlboro light.
The window rattles
an oil train...
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