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.
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