MOTEL 6   They climb the rust belt stairs Boots heavy on threaded steel The father walks ahead and the young boy follows as the smoke from his father’s cigarette mingles with the cold prairie air.   They stop in front of their motel room Father leaning over the railing ledge Starting at the parking lot below His eyes two pools of midnight. The boy looks up at his father and asks when they’ll be going home.   His father turns his head and looks down at the boy and sees a flicker in his pale blue eyes.   I’ve been trying to go home for ten years, son. Maybe tomorrow.   He drops the cigarette over the railing And it dances through the night air Sparks against the asphalt and burns out.
Cail Judy is the co-founder of the Wolf Mountain Writing Collective. He finds joy in bringing wayward poems, sad bastard lyrics and weird stories into this world. He aspires to thunderheads, smoke and distant lightning on the page.