Two Elegies



#215


“The girl in the black dress is rich.
He’s famous. Are they doing it?
I doubt it. You have to understand—
no one’s getting any these days. Yeah—
come see us Friday.” That’s where
the tape in her head ends, as it is Friday night,
and she’s going nowhere near those
gaming sons of bitches. She forces
herself to vomit up an ice-cream
cone. She sends a one-liner out to one
of her text-lists— she’s wearing a black
dress in her soul. She has no initials.  


#431


They sit at the same pub on Limekiln
Pike and reminisce. Have they ever
wondered how he feels? They don’t
realize he’s driving past, and looks in
and sees them there. He still wants in,
and pretends not to. The sun set over
Glenside an hour ago. He pretends to
his family, always, that he has some
where to go, but he doesn’t: he just
likes to drive. The old crew, the popular
girls of ’95, are just as senseless, as
they drive their minds backwards, he
thinks. He’s still a virgin, and desperate.
The business works the same everywhere.