we met in Mexico,
slept rough in the back;
the seats folded down levelled out
and tacked down with two springs
we went by cities
not knowing their names;
stopped at payphone kiosks
shamed our pasts with left messages on answering machines
we stopped at toll booths,
paid for more road to play on,
to drive over smooth,
to cross another border before the noon
we deciphered restaurant menus,
ate with fingers crossed and hoped
the chicken was just that,
left a tip lost in another used ash tray
we wore sun cream
to screen us against the rays
and the glare reflecting
off the mineral water, natural bays
we walked up to bars
asked for drinks in cold bottles,
sipped and supped until kisses rolled out,
left holding hands like mannequin models
we kept the trip a secret,
kept it secure between you and me
and the folds in the bed sheets,
we only exist in hotel cheap suites.
From >> coffeeshoppoems.com