On the Mrder of my Wife


On the Murder of My Wife

Disappearing to somewhere
I can forget

riding on my Harley, speeding
on some remote road, hidden.

She did everything right—
all of this was on her tab:
v Sunday lamb dinners,
Broadway tickets, canoodling in the hot tub.

I had to do it, I said to the cops—
she was killing me with kindness.

On the Murder of My Wife

 

 

Disappearing to somewhere

I can forget

 

riding on my Harley, speeding

on some remote road, hidden.

 

                                                                            She did everything right—                                                       

all of this was on her tab:

 

Sunday lamb dinners,

Broadway tickets, canoodling in the hot tub.

 

I had to do it, I said to the cops—

she was killing me with kindness.