No, no, no.
We're not playing the right games.
It bends at the break.
And I'm far too asleep now to wake.
Nothing is left at this time,
for our kind of spoken peril.
Maybe you'll kiss me on the cheek,
as you leave the hotel room.
Stepping out of my world,
into your own.
Where there are children and
a dog, and a woman.
A passing act of kindness
for a stranger,
verifying my right to exist here.