Wailing For Her Demon Lover
Last night, after dinner, I lay in bed to the screams of some lunatic in the street. I thought to get up several times but kept thinking it would stop. This morning, D and J were gathered in discussion about the lunatic. Who was he? Why didn’t we call the police? What was he saying over and over again – was it Wanda? Rhonda? I offered, Help Me Rhonda?