title please

she was indian american. her eyes were covered by diamond shape glasses. i  got a sense she would do anything for the man in the black suit,red tie.   by the time i met them she  knew he had tired of her. she told me   " i don't know
 what to do. he said
he loves me.
 my grandfather was in the hospital
from open heart surgery.
 he went with me every day

spoke softly, like a dove,
 pecking at the ground
with satisfaction
 because the keeper has provided food.
he told my papa
 not to worry
 about me. he would marry me."
she looks at me with eyes imploring me to confirm this. i do not know this man. he is a poet i met on the internet. he is here with my lover,another poet, whom i also met on the internet. i am a poet. the indian american woman is a photographer. she snaps the camera at the slitof light coming through the curtain capturing heavy swirls of smoke from a night of cigarettes and weed. snaps the open rilke volume lying
next to  the man on a bed,.  He is speaking and laughing quietly with my lover on the other bed. i have to go to work soon. we take coffee from the mini bar. the red tie is wrapped around the handle like a bow. a gift says the tieless man, from my lawfirm.  he opens the slit of curtain wider. the light falls across my lover's shirtless chest, where the scar runs thickest, a keloid in the shape of angel wings.  the poet turns to this sincerely in love  indian american woman, takes the diamond shaped glasses from her face, begins to intone
""
blueberry and tiger blood
fill  the room where the old
man might die.  diving deep
into the center of your depthless
eyes,  look
 for what you wanted
from me. '
it's pretty damn simple, she stutters, clicks the camera, focused on the beam of light. i wanted what you told him to not be a lie. but it was a poem  he laughs,. falls on the bed clutching his knees, shaking with mirth.   my lover joins in..her face, furrowed, khol rimmed, flawless is intent on the lens of her pentax. . i look at them both, then at her, focus, snap, click. she falls between them to get a better angle and brushes against my lover's scar . he  blows me a kiss, says bye  hon, don't be late for work.