I waited more than an hour
at the open window,
my hair disturbed about my shoulders
a salty wind
slapping the coconuts
with a steady, waterlike sound.
I heard him come and turned.
Hotel rooms say nothing
worth trying to hear.
In the flat light
that lies upon clean furniture,
paper covered tumblers,
mirrors, rugs, octagonal bathroom tile,
we whispered
endlessly
touching each other
very soft uncertain words.
Sometime near morning
he spilled warm liquor on the carpet.
Rented and stained.
Later he went away.
The rainclouded morning lit
the saddest world that I had seen in years.