Milk crate bed

We wore pork hats
We listened to Patti Smith rage
We made love on your old milk crate bed

My blood in your veins

I bought you a book of love poems 
By Neruda

You gave me your mouth

Bending into morning
My tongue trailed along your back 
You quivering

In the soft light

We talked about India
We talked about Rishikesh

I told her she should see the sun 
Over the Ganges

It is amazing

I wrote you a poem 
You posted it on your

Wall.