Empty Intimacies

The towers of the George Washington Bridge straddle the traffic. The constant drone outside our motel room is our own urban surf. Inside, a musty smell from the carpet complements the faded wall-paper peeling at the corners.

 
We dress. Step outside into a hot, sticky August night.

 
Like the last two hours didn’t happen.

 
Horns and sirens
Headlights passing by
A worn out door

first published in Image Curve, August 22, 2014

 
Photograph by Ryan McGuire