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Kathy had given me the room number so I walked into the lobby andsmiled at the clerk as I walked past their desk and took the elevator up to thesevent... floor. ? It?s funny that Igot enough courage to come this far and as I walked down the hallway lookingfor the room number, I had a really good notion to turn around and forget thewhole thing. ? It was only money!One thousand dollars to be exact but I really needed the extra income right nowso I tried not to think of this as something dirty. ? I. "And there's no way I'm going with Clinton Thibault. No way. I refuse."Kimberlee seemed to tremble as my dad set his eyes on me, drawing himself up to his full height. Luckily, he wasn't very tall, and since I'd had a lifetime of experiencing that look, some of the intended intimidation was lost on me."Clinton's father is an important investor," he said. "He is well aware that you do not have another date, so you will be attending the gala with Clinton." Dad, he's a fucking pig, he—" Language!". Each line breathed a single breath. Each syllable pumped a heartbeat. Each word sparked the brain creating thought. Every phrase became a confluence of sparks. Every sentence ordered the confluences. The page in which the body of the poem rested presented a field empty and open to anything. The body flowed on the field, not bound and stiff like a building, but malleable and moving. And as each breath has its own length, with inhalation being various distances between the lines, his pages rarely. This was my first glory hole experience. I never heard of it before. Later that night I researched the actions of what I did only to find out what a glory hole was.I walked out of the bathroom and to my car. I felt stickiness on my face, my dress had wet spots all over it. I looked over at the other car that was at the station. The man was in the driver's seat. He smiled at me. I smiled back at him. We both left. As I neared Portland, I telephoned Tom, the landlord. "Hey, I'm going to be about.
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