drunken demands give way to reservations.

inspired by "Imaginary Love" by Rufus Wainwright

Rain trickles onto the cobblestone
mixing with the smell of expensive champagne
and the biting taste of nicotine.

Schubert stumbles out of an
open window
and glides through the damp night air
inviting us to live for the night,
but only for tonight.

You call a cab, hand hailing through
the fog-pollution haze
and inside we slide,
into your hotel, between Egyptian sheets
but only for tonight.

The concierge knows to call at
seven,
but my limbs will be untangled from
yours by five,
heels clicking against the pavement
by six.