what a waste

I pulled smoke strings
out the Cuban Cigar
running wild
in circles over
velvet carpet
of the Backstreet Motel
hanging the nicotine tanned
with cottonwood streamers

they shaped into a spiral
following my enthused feet
vibrating soles
at every touch
of reconnection
with the uneven floor

I was surrounded by
my own nebula
glistening diamonds
of forgotten memories
blasted into thin air
dissipating at the contact
faded like me
against the sunstained
red,ish curtains of
the single for two

my dancing reflections
eyed me precariously
from their broken shrads
of whatever mirror
the emptied bottle
of bargained bubbly
clashed into

I was encircled
blinded by all of
what brought me
to the one-person
numbed by the scent
evaporating from
dirty morning dew
and last night’s
underpriced midnight ride

for the moment
no longer than a flutter
a heart – tumble
and I felt
no longer