Roadside Attractions

May 16, 2009

posted & texted by Caroline Picard


I just saw a neon motel in the middle of palm trees on the way to the airport called 747 liquor store lounge.


Greasy egg breakfast buffet postal workers sitting in a line they wrap the bottles in brown paper to go.


James Taylor on the radio two deaf girls sit in the corner playing cats cradle they could be very fat twelve year olds or twenty and touched. Whatever no good comes to them in this place.


Token businessman drinks coffee and reads the paper—the only one clean pressed. He stayed in one of the motel rooms—I swear this place is amazing, all but abandoned—he has a wedding room and is charging his phone in the only outlet. He looks at home here.


A black man of ambiguous sexuality keeps doing jumping jacks.


The bartender has three cell phones. She keeps trying to charge them.


It is always the same time of day-night here.


Most people who come here miss their flight.


Don’t forget about the conman jiggilo pickpocket who does magic tricks in the corner. He lives in one of the rooms. Calls himself a reporter.



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