Pretty Goddamn Dandy

some dogs who sleep At night
must dream of bones
and I remember your bones
in flesh
and best
in that dark green dress
and those high-heeled bright
black shoes,
you always cursed when you drank,
your hair coming down you
wanted to explode out of
what was holding you:
rotten memories of a
rotten
past, and
you finally got
out
by dying,
leaving me with the
rotten
present;
you’ve been dead
28 years
yet I remember you
better than any of
the rest;
you were the only one
who understood
the futility of the
arrangement of
life;
all the others were only
displeased with
trivial segments,
carped
nonsensically about
nonsense;
Jane, you were
killed by
knowing too much.
here’s a drink
to your bones
that
this dog
still
dreams about.

You pull at the air

Like cotton candy is swirling in the gusts

of wind

which lift skirts high,

too high,

and your fingers tangle in that sugar

Pink and too terribly sweet

until it begins to rain

And it melts

All over your new shoes

Which you bought only yesterday.

They were white.

Oh well.

you are dragging your ankles through

Candy marshes

bubbling

like pointy hat cauldrons.

Cool wet deflated sugar

serenades your knees

like two long lost lovers

Meeting on the soggy plains

of ohio

where the rubber

Meets the road

And the swamp rises to kiss

At your thighs

Where it sticks like slurping

Summertime pain,

Humid promises broken

As it soaks through

Your underwear

And dies you pink

Down there

And it suckles its way to your hips

Which swing like tires

In heat

It’s impossible to walk with

Your legs so submerged in sweet.