sparks

that look

across the lobby of a gaudy hotel
on par with the grand Budapest

big and open and yet

reeking of the same stuffy stench
as a small hallway in an old woman's duplex
in somewhere like Cornwall

as if the carpets haven't been cleaned
since the last great war.

that look

that look that penetrates the mire and murk

that look that breaks your pace

forces your pupils to grow big
in an effort to absorb more detail

that look that breaks you

at the end of a long story, that you thought wouldn't end.

at least,

not like that.