Some Things Are Unwise To Say When There Is A Long Drive Home

You are sitting on the end of the bed
with your two feet set side by side
like a neat pair of shoes. Your hands
are holding each other and lying still
somewhere near your knees. The knees
themselves are tight together. I can see
because you are wearing the soft
shorts with the washed out look
that I bought you. The room is in the style
of New England. A style I know you admire
which is why I booked it. I promise I had no idea
that I would stand on the tasteful faded
floorboards by the window and say what I said.
I look at you. I can see every hair on your legs
and the ones on your wrists. Around me
the long white nets flutter in a sea breeze.
Our window is open. This is how
you would have liked our house to be.
You are staring ahead. You do not speak.
I am arrested among the dove white
of the walls and wardrobes and linen.
I can still hear my words. Over and over.