the ceiling had a painting on it 
in our room in France 
so we were living underneath  
some angels in a dance 
 
my husband was not feeling well 
and so we went to bed 
he woke up complaining 
of an aching in his head 
 
he said a hundred people 
had come through our room that night 
that one by one the old and young 
asked if he was all right 
 
one by one the old and young 
lined up to touch his hand 
he spent the night explaining 
they had come to the wrong man 
 
the concierge was less than helpful 
when we asked her the next day 
with coffee and a magazine 
we went to the desk to pay 
 
"what happened in that room?" he asked 
"a death or something strange?" 
she smiled at him politely 
and returned to him his change 
 
well, what I'd like to know 
and this will be a mystery, 
is with all the people in that room 
why none appeared to me? 
 
when we sleep so close together that 
our hair becomes entwined 
I must have missed that moment 
in the gateway to his mind