Plurality

They ask how the water looked at dawn,

if the hiking trails were easy to stay on.

I tell them about the group, the jokes we made,

how we shared the cooler in the pine-tree shade.

But the truth is a room with a thin, brown rug,

and the hum of a fridge like a mechanical shrug.

I sat on the edge of a bed that wasn't mine,

watching the static on the TV align.

I threw the plastic key card in the bin by the sink,

before I left the lobby without a single blink.

Now I’m nodding at the table, keeping the lie,

because saying I was lonely feels like asking why.