Full Nelson (Limbo Rock)

The vacant Oriental Motel stigmata in that emblematic neon script invites a casual witness.   Of reality as it is so measured.   As those wet kisses recede or snap the heart stem to the subdued tabernacle, vault, crypt, or pickup truck—any of which could be parked just outside.   This desire to dismantle each prophetic hassle & take the stain as deep as you can.   The middle of nowhere seems specific enough to me.   A coastal conditon tapping the mainline dustcloud refuge of disembodied cypress secured by the arcane laws of perspective.   Were we to argue the passage or trim the rain to reconcile painted solicitations.   Isn’t everybody, she added, as I expected the lineaments of an impossible alibi to shed an ounce of ambience.   The luxury of that option would prove to be enough later when the fading Mexican light misspelled the delicately threaded ripple of smoke that bent to reach & exit through the open window.