The silver pieces from my father’s leather purse never run out while I pump them into the empty vending machine for longer than I can remember and though each coin I insert makes my flesh grow thinner like rain on paper my skeleton stands eternal condemned to an infinite glowing like that stale light from the droning vending machine at the end of this dark hallway where deactivated bulbs emit alternating currents of dis orieNt AT ION through this hotel in the common cold after a blackout where from haunted balconies flashes of lightening in the night look tangibly present and deeply frightening.