An Ode to Mary Ann

An Ode to Mary Ann

She snuck into Studio fifty-fourat seventeenwith a friendand saw Peter Framptonhis eyes like mother of pearlstepping out of a limousineMick Jagger was shorterthan he had seemedon that huge screenwhile the moonwith the cokespoon in his nosehung over the surrealand the overly happy menagerie.Her husband had once run drugsin South Americanow he worked at a nuclear plantin Eastern Washingtonwhile she played motherto their teenage daughterand tried to keep her on thestraight and narrow path.Do you tell her these stories I askedshe repliedare you kidding?Mary Annyou gave off wavesof nothing but good feelingsand the combination of trash and classyou were one damn good egg.A pity that you had to diebefore I heard another good storyfrom your repertoirerest easywhereever you areI know you’re making good company.Such was the interplaybetween the two of themthat you could look at her and say to himhow beautiful she was.You haven’t seen her without makeupyou haven’t seen him try to give a lectureto the kid on sobriety.You could see it in their eyesa loose holdand an iron griptwo survivorsutterly sure of themselvesand what they had.Mary AnneI’m glad I never saw youin your stocking capI would have felt a cold sadnessthe void of the loss.Wherever you arei hope you’re holding courtsave your best stories until we allmeet under the barlightwith sawdust on the floor.

An Ode to Mary Ann

bill bell

Everett, United States

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