from my time there

an ugly colored hotel bedspread. her clothes on one side of the bed, yours on the other. when she falls asleep you follow her down like a map. you hold it up to the crack in the curtains and turn it like a kaleidoscope. you don’t recognize the city from here. you don’t know who might have called. who is out playing games. what bombs have dropped. what people are saying in places you could be right now. you crawl back into bed and see the city from the overhead view you have in your head. then you use your hands to see her.