• I am spreading my fingers open
    Staring at the white popcorned ceiling
    Lying on too used bedsheets in the hotel across the street from my work.
    He is describing his family
    And while I am listening, I stare at the ceiling
    Wondering what the people on floor three are doing
    And if they too, are here because they are in love.
    What if they too, are going in the wrong direction that I’m going in?
    What if they are falling upward in a cascade of bubbly emotions?
    I listen to his speak with his strange accent
    Smile at his witty commentary, and stare out the window
    Contemplate the splat of my body on the sidewalk
    While at the same time, the crescendo of his kiss.
    I close my eyes and allow him to turn the light off
    Ask me if there is room in the queen sized bed for him.
    I say yes, as if there has never been another word in my vocabulary.
    And one warm arm drapes over me until morning
    When a cold sunshine will enter through that window
    And he will leave for the airport, to fly 800 miles back home.
    I will drive eight miles back to my dwelling
    Crawl into bed and cry.
    I have never known a stranger love.
    I have never known a greater pain.