The Melody Hotel

In the old part of Las Vegas, if you know where to look, is a particular hotel.
One of those hotels where nobody stays the night.

The stairs are red and probably felt. Candles in gold light your way.

If you know the street, then you know the door. It’s number fifty-six, or seven, or eight…it doesn’t really matter.

Knock once. Then three.
Then ask for the 44 and a silent maid will guide you.

Angels will watch from the ceiling, carved eyes and knowing smiles.

Mirrors on the wall, allowing you to fix your hair, or judge yourself, one last time.

A little melody will pop into your head. You won’t know the song. It never had lyrics, just a simple song that will be with you for days.

IF you’re lucky, the Cleopatra room will be available. All snake venom kisses and dark eyes.

It’s the last remnant of the Las Vegas from the movies. A simulacra of what people think.

Remember, it’s room fifty-six…or seven…or eight.
It’s hard to remember with that melody playing around in your head.

Just follow those red stairs on up…don’t worry, the maid will keep your secret.
I don’t think she can talk anyways.

Behind you, someone new enters. Alone, or even not alone.

The Melody hotel was torn down in 1978, but if you know where to look, know where to knock…you’ll hear that song and be welcomed.

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