After ***, she fell asleep
and I laid there for some time
thinking about all the collisions
and coincidences that led me
up to this point.
She was a beautiful girl
--blonde hair blue eyes,
you know the deal--
She liked older men,
she had said
while we were speaking
at the bar.
That's when I knew it was
a good thing. That's when
I knew it was good that
I had rented a motel room
so close.
Old men have baggage,
the older you are
the more **** you carry
around like stones.
Older you are, the more ****
everyone else has
to deal with;
especially young
beautiful girls
at a dive bar off of the interstate
hanging around old men.
Especially the old men preying
on younger women at a bar
close to their motel room.

Girls who like older men
are either too naive
to know any better,
or too desperate to give
a ****.

I quietly got up
walked toward the sink,
avoiding carefully the
clothes and wine glasses
that lay all
strewn about the room.
--****** motel--
The ones that still
have the old keys
with that big hole where
the key chain goes.
The water pressure
was terrible
but I ran my face under
the water.
I thought maybe
she must just be naive,
she can't be anything past
twenty or so,
**** still perked and eager
and her thighs still tight.
Not for long,
I would imagine,
not with that inclination
towards older men.
That baggage will weigh
it all down, down, down.

I wish I could
have helped her.
I wish I could have
made her realize
she doesn't much need
the baggage.
--But how do you expect
a lion to tell an antelope not
to get too close?--
You don't.
So I turned off the faucet
and laid back in the bed;
just another old lion
full with thoughts of
the young, eager antelope
and the shame of an
empty victory.