The Sturgeon's New Law

There was a gramophone that taunted her,

night after night,

its ghostly sounds wafting up and down the row of cypress trees

She wondered who it belonged to,

it was lonely listening to Ruth Etting talk about ten cents,

and she wondered if its architect was alone at night

It reminded her of when she wanted to be Shirley Temple,

of when she ate concord jelly without a second thought

She had never been loved the way women were loved in books,

passionately at first,

then abusively,

then not at all,

How would she one day fall asleep to an enchanting evening rain storm,

befuddled by her unlucky strokes in love,

heartbroken with the reset of the needle,

plagued with unrequited love,

if she did not know what love was at all

She did not want his music,

or his ten cents,

only his kisses,

and his two cents at that.

anything but an absolute