[I book us a room in a hotel named after a famous poet.]

I book us a room in a hotel named after a famous poet.
It reminds me of an ex I thought I’d forgotten.
It has a balcony that faces the street.
In the morning, the sound of plates wakes us.
You bring me coffee in bed and an apple.
We watch the city wake up below us.
A man carries a bushel of hyacinth.
A woman cries to someone on the phone.
We dress and go downstairs for breakfast.
I speak French to the hostess and remember
I have another voice.
It’s the one I use when I pretend I’m someone else.
She seats us next to a couple in love.
They drink out of each other’s glasses.
We move to a table closer to the window to forget ourselves.