I am sharing a bathroom with this woman
in a motel down along Kingston Road,
this woman who refuses to argue
because she says it is “unbecoming.”
As though you come more and more unravelled
as a person with each petty word you can’t take back.
And we are there for two nights.
In close quarters.
She really is a wise one.
I show her my tattoos and she runs her hands
over them like the blind reading Braille.
When we sleep tonight she will snore lightly
and I will fall asleep listening to that.
And in the morning we will find a place
for breakfast and park the car
and walk on in.
