Boyfriend

I can't sleep.

Every time I doze off, the traffic light outside

changes, and the cars screech to a halt

or start up and I wake up.

I can't read--

After an hour

I clench my fist, whispering

why didn't I stay home

where things are silent and familiar

and everyone sleeps the same hours I do.

But here!

In this motel,

sheets stiff and scratchy, air stuffy,

he lies beside me

smelling of wine, not bothered

by the traffic outside.

He snarls periodically,

"Will you shut up that whining."

This is how I always see him--on his terms--

noisy motels by traffic lights

and the sinister desk clerk downstairs.

Nothing falls in place. I lie sobbing

by the man I love because

we are so alien.