Des Moines, IA

It’s mid-afternoon and I am sitting in my underwear in an ill lit hotel room. I’ve refused to surrender the bed. Having sacrificed power to the clock radio in order to charge my computer, I’m able to be convinced the light outlining the pinstriped drapes is from a street light lamp, or the glow of Christ watching over me, anything but a mid-days sun. Exhaustion from the week found me last night, hovering over a high-top table, gripping flavorless pale ale, in Des Moines.