the bellman gives me
a funny look as he
takes out his wallet.
(no, i am not a hooker)

you're already here when i
arrive, tie loosened and
shirt half unbuttoned.

"hurry this up," you
say, "i have a meeting
at four, then i'm home."

"home to the girlfriend," i suspect.
you always said that
the way i always said
"the girlfriend" was impersonal;
well, this hotel is impersonal,
i notice as i sit down
on the dirty bedspread.

but the impersonal don't
matter much, as ten minutes
later i'm screaming your name
and you said someone else's.

you always wish i was someone
else.
i always wish this wasn't an
affair.

---

written in study hall.
and it's craptastic.