Issue 100, Summer-Fall 1986
“My wife,” said Pinnegar, “expects to see me go to the
dogs when she leaves me. It is her last hope.”
D. H. Lawrence, “Jimmy and the Desperate Woman”
hundred dollars. Said, So long, baby.
Take it easy, hear? So much
for twenty years of marriage.
She knows, or thinks she knows,
I’ll go through the dough
in a day or two, and eventually
wreck the car—which was
in my name and needed work anyway.
When I drove off, she and her boy-
friend were changing the lock
on the front door. They waved.
I waved back to let them know
I didn’t think any the less
of them. Then sped toward
the state line. I was hell-bent.
She was right to think so.
I went to the dogs, and we
became good friends.
But I kept going. Went
a long way without stopping.
Left the dogs, my friends, behind.