The Motel - Intro

The early spring snow is starting to fall on the roof of the little Motel. Inside each of the green doors are 13 unlucky lives. I can see it across the way through a bare winter tree. It's on one of my dark days.
The cars coming and going, the trash piling up.
And a single red neon "OPEN" light never seems to flicker.



.

Thinking of the coming weekend, of waking up with him on Sunday morning.


It's only on the sunny days that I think of us talkin' on the porch that summer. So it must be one, on the other side of that factory wall, that I can't see. Some sunlight would be nice.

Spring is - better than we've ever been.

Aren't we one for tellin' stories these days. Aren't I one for the books - pullin' on another window that won't open. Wishin' that spring air could just fall down over the mountains so this place could fill with a little light. Takin' a silent exhale on a smell of cologne.
Looking away into the corner of any room where imagination makes a moment for divination.
Might as well have been daylight -- cause nothing of the shimmer of the night could 'ya let wash over. Just gulping down that whiskey of restraint. Nothin' but space apart should we keep makin'.
But isn't that just a setting down of good memories...letting them gain dust.