the hotel.

i was a man

with a woman

who said we needed

only one bed

in the room

that had two.

the man she'd married

knocked on our door,

which we knew

before we saw.

i was the man,

i went to the door.

the door 

remained closed

till i touched it.

i, not quite the man

with all the right virtues,

did not unlock it.

it'd unlock itself

when i began to turn 

back to bed.

beyond the door

that he pounded down,

the other he 

saw

the body on the bed,

which belonged to him,

and went untouched.

desirable and desiring,

it must have looked

like it wanted more

than just a kiss.

we stood, 

facing each other,

a man and one

who was not quite

a man, 

pulling on the ends

of an imagined

tug of war

while the woman,

still silent

and hopefully hiding

under cooling covers,

went into her own dream

and out of mine.