the mirage motel

if I wasn't married,
she says, sighing,
twisting the stuck
ring on her finger,
we'd have a life
together.
we wouldn't have
to sneak around like
this, meeting
in out of the way
motels, using foreign
names to check into
our room.
parking our cars
around back. beneath
the willow trees,
that blow and bloom.
if it wasn't for
my husband, my kids,
and parents,
and money, we'd
be together now,
we'd have a life
of our own. we'd be
happy, happy in our
own home sweet home.