She called me from the bathtub she was soaking in.
I looked out of the hotel window. The white
sugar mountains shadowed as I walked along the
carpet to the bathroom.  She had done a lot of cocaine
that night.  I knelt beside the tub and began washing her
tan arms with a patriotic rainbow, white wash cloth.
Silver room service was on its way.
I felt lost.
Finally, she turned her head to me and spoke,
"Why are you still wearing your clothes?"