Coyly tucked beneath a virginal
sheet--electroshock therapy on wheels.
Comes right to you.
Pizza delivery techno in
the mental death ward.
Other candles zapped, one by one,
it's my go round at the party.
Forgotten memories smother the room,
then burst through a shuttered window.
A woman kneels to the walkway weeping;
she sees an ashen man on a graveyard bed,
leftover pills, stardust, around him,
that note bequeathing me
his Marilyn books still curled
in the crotch of his battered Royal.