Eulogy To A Hell Of A Dame

some dogs who sleep At nightmust dream of bonesand I remember your bonesin fleshand bestin that dark green dressand those high-heeled brightblack shoes,
you always cursed when you drank,
your hair coming down youwanted to explode out of what was holding you:
rotten memories of a rotten past, andyou finally gotoutby dying,
leaving me with therottenpresent;
you've been dead28 yearsyet I remember youbetter than any ofthe rest;
you were the only onewho understoodthe futility of thearrangement oflife;
all the others were onlydispleased withtrivial segments,
carpednonsensically aboutnonsense;

Jane, you were killed byknowing too 's a drinkto your bonesthatthis dogstilldreams about.