Melinda sprayed me with a bottle of dry shampoo,
the white foam overflowed from my mouth.
She throttled me with kale chips and concealer;
she covered up my bruises with lipstick,
drew up a contract for compensation of services,
and I was to write out everything that happened
that night five summers ago,
a trip to the beach turned deadly
for the local radio station.
The airwaves crashed into the ocean,
Melinda sang the French national anthem
with a chaser of whiskey,
every hound dog joined in.
Melinda hurled every curse at me with dry shampoo,
a cream puff of white stuff clogging up my nose.