I looked at the mints on the pillow,
They seemed a reminder of the briefness of the night.
Of the awkward morning.
The clean, compact bathroom,
Screaming to me, to clean, clean, clean.

The stark bed sheets, whispering seductive nothings
In my all too eager ear.
Gentle hands pulled off my coat,
“stay a while, stay a while.”

The night slipped on as if to mock me,
The overbearing morning coming all too soon.
In that in between place, the night before the dawn,
I found the place behind your knees that is your favorite to be touched.
The sun came into our second floor window, ushering us into a new day.

But the pancakes were cold, and the coffee left much to be desired,
Leaving me with the impression that the waitstaff knew what we had done.
You paid the check, and I left the tip, a note scribbled on my un-used napkin.
“I couldn’t help myself.”