The broken-hearted sex club on Disaster Ave

Midnight.

Your Camels.

My lighter.

We meet.

Same sign.

Shot glass.

Your face.

Drum solo.

Sweaty bar.

Tight space.

Ditzy laugh.

No regrets.

No tomorrow.

Wife left.

Spot light.

Slow grind.

Husband cheated.

Red lipstick.

Your mouth.

Hotel key.

No apologies.

No hearts.

One condom.

We laugh.

One cab.

We dance.

My breast.

You lie.

No names.

No numbers.

I lie.

We leave.

Muerte.