My Lady La Salle

Some may think I’m a sexist, a misogynist

writing this way, but as a boy growing up

to be a man I had something to say.

It had to do with The La Salle Hotel lighted

at night on Linwood Boulevard in Kansas

City. Seeing those bright red neon letters

lofted 12 stories high a mile away was the

spell-binding view from my apartment

window in 1962 when I was fifteen.

At my age, had I any notion as to what it

meant to feel twinges of romance, smoking

a cigarette at the time, that was as close as

I could get.

She was beautiful and alluring to me under the

light, the shape of her, the radiance of her eyes,

the mysterious silhouette of her figure settled

into the night.

The next day riding with my father in the

car, headed East on Linwood to some

place we had to go, we passed my lovely

La Salle in broad daylight. Dirty brownish

red bricks stacked skyscraper high, frowning

windows screaming for paint, she was a

needy figure indeed brooding in morning

light.

My beloved La Salle Hotel, her neon soul

extinguished, a wary and worried structure,

bereft of the beauty my eyes envisioned

basking under the glow of neon at night.

It was then I came to realize, love is meant

for the lonely only to be fantasized from a

safe distance at night. Sweet dreams, my

dear, Lady La Salle, farewell, goodnight!

                       -30-

Chris Hanch 7-8-2020