mr. and mrs. jones

we both sign the register

as mr. and mrs.

jones.

i'm albert,

she's louise.

her arm

is around my waist,

her hand

pulling at my

fruit of the looms.

we can't wait to get up to the room.

luggage?

the clerk says.

no.

we both say.

three hours later,

we're in the lobby, 

coats over our head,

scurrying

out, leaving way

too soon.