Stuck in a hotel room. The serious elements of ‘Ever wonder why there are Life preservers on a ship.’ Question time. Orange glows in the brackish green cloak of frothy sea sweat painted on the wall, ironic of the time period.

This was no ordinary hotel with a bow and starboard and various masts protruding from the roof atriums. Yet it was dry docked in the desert filled with tropical fish aquariums to bring the sea inside as if living inside a sunken wreck living alongside neptune and his sirens. Look up see the Neon Sign with all the letters dead except for the last letter ‘E’ above the ‘T’ in blue Hotel neon splendor. ‘ET’ phone home… I say as the Lyrics from the Morphine song play.

“Sharks patrol these waters.”

Distracted by a peach shaped ass in bike shorts and mid drift crop top playing her pony tail, while ordering her Tumeric latte aware of my glaring aviators and face smeared with pie gravy, red sauce in hunger from some primal moment of seven day heatwave.

“Sharks patrol these waters..”

“Don’t let your fingers dangle in the water”

I hear bass lines ring out with glass slide gravel rippling against every wound wire top two bass strings, the baritone saxophone blasting out Coltrane squeals… memory pauses and miss glamour is angry that her glamour did not make me frustrated. I see the princess and the peach disappear like an apprition. The air of possibilities were meant to appear yet there was just a room in the hotel waiting for me in the form of a dry docked Ship where Mody Dick could have pulled himself over Captain Ahab’s obsession with his albino Physeter macrocephalus Sperm Whale good looks. Why else would a captain of a ship want something other so insanely obsessively than Libidinal insecurity that there was a sea with a bigger beast than he. A great pissing competition with a mammal that has the largest penis in the animal kingdom. No wonder he went insane. Like a millionaire dying on the operating table from penis enlargement surgery. I flicked through the doom scroll of the phones news feed.

The song starts in my head like a lawnmower being pulled a few times on the old rip cord.

“And don’t you worry about the day-glow orange life preserver

It won’t save you

It won’t save you.”

The back streets were like orphaned businesses of a bygone busy era where there was money now all things were closed half shut or closing.

There were strange memories of that morphine song. To realise that the draining energy was not anything spiritual or resentment it was the search for power through jealousy. The long game transaction when someone doesn’t get to dominate others they lose interest in preying on the weakness. To look at a blade of grass while a horse chomps into its crunchy tips.

Horses can swim…

I tried swatting flies with just my mouth blowing air directed with different lip positions.

The ego takes a minute to return to the brickwork and pressed copper ceilings that seemed to match the peach glow from old curtains that turned nicotine yellow in the afternoon. The hotel with no one in it. Mirrors at the end of each corridor.

But that was life. From songs of wisdom and politics we all drain something in the rapid form of existence as we live the simulacra of life casting beams of energy in every thought and moment,

Yet the more material we came the further we drifted from the orange dayglow life preserver.

‘... sharks patrol these waters.

Don’t let your fingers dangle in the water.’

Craving Keylime pie Mickey Knox ate in Natural born killers movie.

‘Lets give that piece of pie its day in court.’ Mickey Knox loved Mallory.

We were our songs and movies now out of date pop culture references.

Sensing we talk about health problems, headlines, scandal and the cost of everything.

‘It just keeps going up.

“Don’t let your fingers dangle in the water……’

‘... sharks patrol these waters.’