Past Midnight

Nothing but this: a night clerk looking displaced a fish wide-eyed poking against glass both sharing the reception desk silence is the medium the man stares blind iron keys on iron hooks each holding a secret swoosh: the door a half dozen footsteps a few broken words the jingle of #34 a staircase thunders and here just here for the first time the man considers alternatives: undertaker cheesemonger perhaps even a sailor his cigarette tip glows incandescent his eyes: dancing