Near The Border Line

by Doug Draime

The motel was on the
outskirts of a town,
from a drunken
John Houston movie..

I remember the exact placement
of the 5th of Johnny Walker Red,
sitting next to the glasses,
on the night stand but I
don’t remember her name.

Her eyes were light blue and like dimming
bar lights, flickering over my
shoulders, always looking at the
graying adobe.

I kept the tv on, and I must have
rolled 10 joints.

She liked it from behind bent over the
metal desk,
those lovely shadow-eyes blinking on and off at
the walls.
She never smiled once and gave me
one word answers to
my questions, only looking at me
when I turned away.
She didn’t even look up
when I paid her $20 more than she
said she was worth.