The Favor – a prose poem

I remember that night i did an ex-girlfriend a favor. the first woman i loved in ten years. the woman of my regret. I drove her to her first escort job, dancing naked for some stranger in a holiday inn. i still loved her. I couldn't let her go alone. driving her there I wished I could be him. like when we first started dating and she danced for me and then suddenly became shy. shy doesn't get you a good tip. I sit at the counter at Denny's drinking coffee, staring at the clock, the second hand moving slower than the wearied waitress refilling my cup. I try to read the book I've brought to pass the time. The letters form words. My eyes take them in, picking up meaning only now and then. thighs. kiss. death. as a lover should do.... This kind of love i am good at, love is not love without bruises, without the cut and the scar. I don't want to be the man in room 267. I imagine a g-string. a corset. I want to be the man in room 267. I love her. the second hand on the clock is tied to the waitress who has stopped moving and sits in the corner picking stars from her coffee. and I am nothing but a flagellant for love. the old couple in the first booth turns away as i whip my back. and two young Mexicans in Virgin Mary T-shirts genuflect and throw tap water at me. I stand firm. My coffee is cold and only a quarter drank. I check my phone for the eighth time. when I take her home I will be her safe place. i will hold her if she wants. what if she doesn't need me to? If she does, let her sleep across my bandaged arms. I fumble for a cigarette, thinking of the guy in room 267. I could be him. Maybe I am him. Maybe we are the same. I look down. at the phone losing count waiting, wanting, the god damn phone to ring.

Postscript. I wrote this in another life. Reading it now is less memory than channeling. Dictation from a man waiting by a phone..

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© 2025 Chris Leibow — Salt Lake City artist and poet.
poetry, collage art, mixed media,
Explore more art at leibow.art.