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Night I stumbled into Steak N’ Shake late at night— William Carlos Williams said it best: “broken, beaten, desolate, reaching from the dead to be taken up”— and then into my hotel room. The receipt said it best: “your cashier was Night.” She did look sort of weird. She stared at me through thick glasses. She was short, with wake-ups at 2 and 4 a.m., 4 being when I gave up on sleeping. I heard men often refer to something like a boat or a car as “she” to show ownership. Not so with Night, not so. I get granola bars without even knowing the cost and she charges me. Even with my eyes cracked with hotel coffee, I can see the Hayworth tank farm drift by beneath the clouds like a planet I’m approaching, and I know I’m still in debt and still dreaming. Back |
