(I) July 10th, 1993

Jane's clenched legs writhe. Soot dress dance flannel

sheets. Inane lush that can't decide, but I'm snared
here. I wake flustered in her bedroom that I can't
escape. I weep here's something that can never change.


This marriage is make believe. Cook slop meal; and
sew t-shirt; and wash my plate; and make bunk bed. I

never asked these things, because Jane's now dead.
Jane's found dead, long dead. Left me to this lonely bed.
Hoard of locust mad.


(II) September 17th, 1995


Jane floats down the aisle. Voluptuous cream
wedding dress. Family and friends tight smiles. Razor
near. "I do," and I promise on the bottle lover's grave.

She sighs, "our timeless loyalty is branded change."

This marriage is make believe. Mow front lawn; and

wash sports car; and cut slab wood; and pain garage;
but we're not a sexist pair. Because Jane's now dead.
Because Jane's been dead. Because Jane's found dead,

long dead. Stranded to this frigid bed. Pacific bottom
sad.


I'll mourn her softly

(III) May 3rd, 2043


A-frame by Winchester stream. Trimmed hedge
with daisies. Fields. Stained plank ceder fence. My

gramps' ponies. She'll %#@! a brick. I bet. Our house to
raise a family. She'll %#@!. I bet. We'll grow old
together. Snail slow and ancient gray. Racquetball on

tuesday morning. Playing eucker. Sipping tea; and
watch the sun die from our rocking chairs. We'll gum
sweet oatmeal holding dishpan hands. She'll %#@! a

brick. I bet. To watch our children married. She'll %#@!.
I bet. To see us when we're ninety, sleeping in on church
sunday. Playing our dated CD's that we bought in my

twenties.

(IV) January 25th, 2051


This marriage is make believe. Now I'm crying on
her body as she passed away without me, and left me this

bitter old man; because Jane's now dead, because Jane's
been dead. Because Jane's found dead. My wife's now
dead. My wife's found dead. Jane's left dead.