Swing time is over.
I’m tired and wander through an apocalyptic portal;
albeit a motel.
Landscapes of red dunes brandish the theme and the hot air hits me square in the face.
I am in Modesto.
A classic motif of the 80s dullness ascribed to each room of this Motel 8.
Then there is one room completely covered in everything Hello Kitty. Sanrio is serious.
The bed spread, the rugs, the pictures hung askew with intent
That sent me into a sleep I can only surmise as a coma.
Dreaming to sleep.