elegy for ellen
C Ra McGuirt
i didn't know ellen that well, although we partied together a time or 2. i didnlt know ellen that well--girlfriend of my former wife. i didn't know ellen. her boyfriend french, her beauty and drinking extreme. i didnlt know ellen. she was jewish. her eves and hair were marvelous darh. of course, i wanted to fuck, or even kiss her. i never did either. although we laughed together, i never really knew ellen very well.
i never hnew ellen; onlv her public persona, and couldn't fantasize myself much beyond touching her cheek. however, i knew her fond of me-- ellen came with bright balloons when my gut went out behind bad love.
i never knew ellen, but my ex-wife kept me up on her whereabouts. i knew when she quit drinking and fucking around and france.
i never knew ellen. i knew she harbored desperation. but i didnlt know ellen, so i couldnlt guess why nothing much seemed to content her.
yesterday, my ex-wife called and told me: ellen shot herself.
shit, i said. thatls rare for a woman; they usually go by pills...
she tried that before, said my ex. ellen wasn't playing this time...
i never knew ellen, and ilm too old to believe that if i had, ellen might yet be amongst us: hell, i canlt even fix myself, and i couldnlt have made ellen happy. i never knew ellen. i wish she were here
laughing across the table, in my favorite mexican joint on this april afternoon.
