letra de jane whitfield is dead - thought industry
[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 fl-stered 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 s-xist 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 sh-t a brick. i bet. our house to
raise a family. she’ll sh-t. 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 sh-t a
brick. i bet. to watch our children married. she’ll sh-t.
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 p-ssed 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.
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