By Kristen De Kline
I slept with her
again last night
we screamed as we came
lit up as we crashed down
we wrote poems every day
on brown paper bags
eulogies on dole forms
etched love letters into our flesh
we howled like Ginsberg
louder
nobody listened
again last night
I slept with her
we came as we screamed
when I woke up
my leather jacket was gone
the Drum tobacco pouch, emptied out
she’d even ripped off the $2 lighter