barriers
cheap whiskey, neat
in an antiseptic hotel bar
across a broad table
its fake wood grain sticky
with syrupy drips
and saccharine words
secondary colleagues
chatter and whine
about pretentious plenaries
and boring breakouts
glass empty, bill paid
duty complete, I rise
offering feigned regrets
to cover one final glance
at your mahogany hair
and flushed cheeks
and tired green eyes
you catch me
at the elevator
we both push fourteen
and laugh, surprised
on the slow rise
I relish the strawberry scent
of your lip gloss
and ask after your kids (good)
your job (fine)
your husband (oh, you know)
what are the odds
in a hotel with 2,000 rooms
yours would adjoin mine
as we mumble our goodnights
in the dull fluorescence
I wonder if you also wish
that the only thing separating us
was a thin panel of drywall