Do you recall how I would buy champagne <br />with subway tokens at the Benson store, <br />then lick it all up from your northern breast? <br /> You still wore boots from Bialystok <br /> <br />and I would hold your bag in sun and rain. <br />Do you recall your mattress on the floor, <br />how we would suck and f uck and never rest, <br /> explore Manhattan, and then talk <br /> <br />our way down Clinton street in funny rags? <br />It was four in the afternoon, my pocket <br />full of dreams you'd never tread on, love. <br /> I'd go back home, no longer vagrant, <br /> <br />listen to Cohen, look through plastic bags, <br />makeshift curtains, out at sunlight, locket <br />of your hair in my eyes, your smell above <br /> my grateful lips still warm and fragrant.<br /><br />Leo Yankevich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-an-old-flame/
