great David, Jane and me as either one of them

great David set the pace for innovation
inhalation, dead crumb sophistication
and there he went batting his eyelashes
after years of deprivation, bursting,
chilling bones, res non verba,
rest on Valium, sleeping in cars,
strained joints, started over,
he made it

great David said it was all cool
but his neck grew worse
waited forever to marry Jane
should have licked her forearm
when there was time to
but he set the pace and then it was too lame
and layed sedated and forgetful

rate David as a demonic lover
an accident waiting to happen
a car pooling affair with no HOV
Jane wondering and hovering and
emotionally stimulating as she was
two happy hearts beat as one
but she had better beatings to ponder

and then great David went ballistic
lost all composture and tore his worst disguise
a familiar tragedy not for the light spirited
from downtown to the suburbs at 90 miles per hour
the ladder vibes and empty rooms with no view
insane amounts of pain and debt,
like asphyxia on a summer weekend

I'm sick of it all protested David
and Jane was all over the place
took her basket, lost her patience
begged in silence, could not get over it
speeds on the beltway going nowhere
hands tied, cold blooded and belonging to none,
a shoestring, and some more pills for desert

You wish them well and would have enjoyed
knowing them better
but all in all, great David set the pace,
Jane belongs to no one,
the road is the road is the road,
begging in silence, stretching once and again,
ageing, bleeding still from minor damages


dan ariston (Cambridge, MA, 1979)