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Last Night at the Holiday Inn
by Brad Rose

The rain patters on the roof, like soft applause. I’m listening, closely. Very closely. Constant acceleration. You can hear the sky, swarming, shivering. Listen. Low altitude velocity. Before I know it, it’s just like fun. But harder to enjoy. In the next room, I hear laughter, like a little boat, bobbing. Just laughter. And at the end of my bed, my suitcase, small as a monosyllable. I’m only visiting. I can’t stay. Really, I can’t. Thank you. Goedel’s incompleteness theorem. Always something missing. The letter ‘J’ is not in the periodic table. What am I waiting for? Something tells me, it could get ugly. Something tells me, shut up and calculate. Something keeps telling me. Everything is ticking, the wallpaper, the air conditioner, the rain. Sharp, bright, ticking. I’m listening. It ticks faster. Nine bullets. By the time you read this, everything will be different. Nine Bullets. What am I waiting for? Everything will be different.

SOURCE: Originally published in The Molotov Cocktail.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Brad Rose was born and raised in Los Angeles, and lives in Boston. He is a 2013 recipient of Camroc Press Review’s Editor’s Favorite Poetry Award and the 2014 winner of unFold Magazine’s  “FIVE (5) Contest” for his found poem “Signs of Reincarnation at Le Parker Meridien Hotel, NY, NY.”  Brad’s poetry and fiction have appeared in The Los Angeles Times, The Baltimore Review, San Pedro River Review, Off the Coast, Third Wednesday, Boston Literary Magazine, Right Hand Pointing, and other publications.  Links to his poetry and fiction can be found at his blog. His chapbook of miniature fiction (“Coyotes Circle the Party Store”) is available at online. Audio recordings of a selection of Brad’s published poetry can be heard at soundcloud.com.

 IMAGE: “The Empty Mask” by René Magritte (1928).