Duplex: Cento My last love drove a burgundy car, Color of a rash, a symptom of sickness. We were the symptoms, the road our sickness: None of our fights ended where they began. None of the beaten end where they begin. Any man in love can cause a messy corpse, But I didn’t want to leave a messy corpse Obliterated in some lilied field, Stench obliterating lilies of the field, The murderer, young and unreasonable. He was so young, so unreasonable, Steadfast and awful, tall as my father. Steadfast and awful, my tall father Was my first love. He drove a burgundy car.
