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.
