I felt for the first time
when she left
by then way too late
alone in a motel room  at twelve  midnight
with the neon bar sign outside glowing
the traffic of the bypass
almost singing  a woeful tune a full
ashtray an ember burning my careless
fingertips
tomorrow
and hope so *******  long past
my beard growing  every second grayer
an inch
itching it's way through
like despair
on an express train
to nowhere
again