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They danced
In a vacant hotel
In the middle of
What once was Indianapolis
Its windows kicked out
By falling fire
In a matter of hours
The invading army would
Swallow them whole
And the rest of the city
Like a tidal wave
And so they sought out
One last moment of solace
In this miracle still standing
They took refuge
In an interior room
On the highest floor
When they shouldered down the door
It was as if they were checking in
For a long weekend stay
The bed was made
The bath towels:
Two swans kissing
Atop a pair of
Neatly folded bathrobes
There was a bottle of wine
On the table
The mini fridge was stocked
And the snacks untouched
They couldn't believe their luck
And for a moment they didn't
She thought she was seeing
What was not there
And left the room
With her blackened hands
Clenching the sides of her face
He followed her out
And told her that
If she had gone mad
Then he had gone mad too
And that they could be mad together
In their little room
He spun on the faucet
And cold water ran out
Black and then brown
And then clear
They knew they could not drink it
But they stopped up the drain
And drew a bath
The bath was cold
But they pretended it was warm
As they slipped in
One and then the other
They took turns
Running the small bars of soap
Over each other's skin
And they were surprised
By how gentle they could be
When they weren't surviving
He grabbed for one of
The miniature bottles of shampoo
And lathered her hair
And massaged her scalp
And he could not see it
As her back was turned to him
But her face was a beautiful mess
Falling apart at the seams
They dried off with the towels
And slipped on their robes
They turned on their flashlights
And placed them around the room
Standing them up on their butts
Their gaze painting halos on the ceiling
Eventually they made their way
To the coffee table
And took their seats
Together they made a small meal
Of the snacks in the wicker basket
And uncorked the bottle of wine
It was cheap and sweet
And they wondered
Silently to themselves
If they would be alive in the morning
To suffer the hangover
They drank generously
Pushing away the thought
Once they had their fill
They scanned the corners of the room
Like restaurant goers
Who've finished their meals
And are left waiting on the check
With nothing more to talk about
The man could see the sadness creeping in
And so he unearthed his Sony Walkman
From his backpack
It was ancient looking
But it worked
She smiled up at him
As he pushed her damp hair
Behind her ears
And placed the foam headphones
Over her head
As if it were a crown
He stood her up
He held the Walkman
Behind the small of her back
And took her left hand into his own
He then hit play
She closed her eyes
As Chet Baker whispered in her ears
He left his open
Staring at her
Together in their bathrobes
They danced for what seemed like hours
In their little room
And when the heavy footfalls of boots
Could be heard climbing the stairs
He turned the music up higher
So she could not hear