motel room

notice the wrinkles on his hands. He Ubers anyway. Driver's a mahogany girl buffed smooth but her sad eyes still blink twice in the rearview. Just the September sun. Two drinks at the bar swirl. Inside the tin, it's still just more cigarettes. .a bluejay perches at the edge of an unmade bed .September night, blink twice, but he never got a good look at her face. Paper thin walls. The bug chirrup .The dopplered headlights. Waves strangled yellow in the wilting curtains, a reverberating die in the gritting pavement and then pass on to a whisper, and beyond that she is still alive. September sets in homespun blue night. Between the blinks. .a bluejay with wrinkles in his heart Then pass on to a whisper , and grasp the autumn leaves [end, stop, fin] [עצור, End]