Chapter 15

They made love on literally every viable surface of that hotel suite. She thought the suite at the hotel back home was impressive, this was far nicer. He was out on the balcony begging for her to share a smoke with him so he could proudly adore her bed hair when she saw it. Bukowski's "Love is a Dog From Hell". Definitely his copy. It was worn and rolled like it had traveled. She grabbed the hotel pen from the counter and opened to cover page. She inscribed. "There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out, but I'm too clever-  I only let him out at night sometimes, when everybody's asleep. I say, I know you're there so don't be sad.

Then I put him back.

And he's singing a little in there

I haven't quite let him die

And we sleep toget