Dom
By Viktor Gordevich
Bordering three suburbs it stood exiled by the urban planners.
The house of Eros pierced into the night sky, like a neon obelisk.
Its glorious incandescence invited him to treat his desires.
Reborn under the sallow glow of the fluorescent lights,
he joined the unsavoury flock in their slow march towards it’s doors.
From behind a desk the madam’s heavy eyes followed his entrance.
As her palm presented itself, he stumbled for money under her jaded gaze.
The tin ding of the elevator doors separated him from the others.
At the top floor, he was greeted by an attractive woman drowning in a softly lit misery.
Inappropriately cheery pop music intensified the sullen mood as she guided him towards the bar.
Silenced by alcohol and obscured by smoke, he repelled each girl that approached him.
He was content to sit alone and watch his expectations of hedonistic paradise dissolve in his own misery.
Then a hand cut through his protective fog and softly found his right shoulder,
As he turned towards the intruder, his fury crumbled away at her delicate beauty.
He offered her a cigarette, doubling the already thick mist of burning tobacco.
Her limited English politely fumbled with his even less German.
So, they saved their breaths and spoke through the understanding of their environment.
Before the last ash fell, she led him away by his hand.
Finally alone, they began to undress.
His brooding veneer melted away with each item he removed,
until all he had left was a nervous innocence.
A period of enjoyable intensity gave way to him clamouring for his clothes.
Yet, her fragile hand calmed him once more.
“Stay, we have more time,” she said as she offered him another cigarette.
Although strangers to one another they shared a comfortable silence like a well-worn couple.
Then her phone’s alarm, adorned the reality he almost forgot.
A last exchange of smiles was made before he descended back into his lonely world.
Although he came seeking pleasure, he was satisfied with the humanity he had found.