Cheltenham Elegy #420

I.

The Junior Prom deposited me (and fifteen others) on the floor of her basement. I could barely see daylight at the time, and at three in the morning I began to prowl. I was too scared to turn on any lights. She emerged like a mermaid from seaweed. I needed comfort, she enjoyed my need. We had gone out— she was bitter. The whole dialogue happened in shadows. No one was hooking up in the other room, either. You spiteful little princess.

II.

Whether off the bathroom counter or the back of your hand, darling, your unusual vehemence that winter night, cob-webbed by half-real figures, was animated by an unfair advantage, which stooges threw at you to keep you loopy as you died piece-meal. All I had was incomprehensible fury and a broken heart— when I hit the floor at four, you were getting ready to play fire-starter, opened the little snifter, curled your finger twice in the right direction; darkness—