the love song turns to a waltz;
a dance you never counted on
the hell and back, counted from
are now the years you're paying on
that brief candle which you preached about
is just the warmth you've done without.
you make decisions and shake you fist
you look at the names on the top of your list
they will notify and carry
the news
about your suicide and your savvy.
---O---
From: Ehrlich [ehrlich@flash.net]
Sent: Friday, October 30, 1998 9:30 PM'
Subject: To my brother