you leave

once, not once upon a time, but once,
I stayed overnight
in a flea bag hotel on Richmond
highway.
my soon to be ex wife demanded
that we take
a break from one another, just
for a few days, she said.
it might help.
so I agreed. I was an agreeable
and compromising person
at the time.
the bed was stiff and limp,
thin, but not as thin as the walls.
a shared vent
brought in the voices and smoke
from the rooms next door.
the arguing and coughing.
I listened to a couple make love.
but it didn't sound like
love, it sounded more like
anger and sadness.
I turned the television on
to drown out the voices, watching
nothing of memory.
I lay there with my clothes still on,
my small bag unpacked,
then finally at three in the
morning, went home and told her,
if you're unhappy, you leave.