Bear Spray Motel Man

The steps of the motel office sparkled with ice -

Blinded, lowering each foot like a soldier, up, straight down

Mind on the coffee that called me inside.

Car puffing exhaust, sighing impatiently:

Beyond the glossy red door

A wave of heat whooshed up from the vent in greeting.

A prematurely balding man bulged from behind the desk;

“Hi” I said.

“Hi.”

“Is the coffee fair game?”

The waters

Seemed calm, tepid. I eased in.

“Sure thing.”

Crossing the room, taxidermies stared.

“All the way from Massachusetts…”

I dared him to finish the question I imagined

Tipped on the edge of his tongue:

“All alone?”

The back of a dark closet: musk and cloth

Clinging to the back of my throat, shoulder blades

Broken wings crushed against the wall. Hairier hands clutching

Chest eyes neck wrists.

So many tones to this question

With so many closets, so many hands.

But this man, his shining head and soft thin hair

Smiling at me, swiveling his chair.

“Where have you stopped?”

Demanding my hands to stop shaking:

“Michigan was the last place.”

“Hey, I’m from Ann Arbor. Great little town.”

A nod, a smile. His baldness winked, and I

Softened. Handing me my receipt, he stood abruptly.

“Hey, I have something…” Into a closet

Next to the coffee table. Coffee, black and hot,

Whooshed into my cup.

“I have, like, six more,” and reached out –

A can, bright red with a wide nozzle covered in white plastic.

I tried to refuse the gift:

“I don’t want to wipe you out,” but

He was already standing like a policeman

Wide spread feet, arms straight out –

No gun, just a can of bear spray.

“Just because you’re a female traveling alone,

Just incase.” A female, not a girl or woman:

Female, a nearly sexless word, an animal word –

The human and human fear drained from me.

“Thank you,” I said. “Very much.”

“Be safe,” he said. “Have fun.”

The door had a muffled click as I shut it behind me.

My thoughts stayed with the bear spray motel man

Long after I got in my car and drove away.