From a distance,
the amplified notes become garbled,
distorted by the intense heat and humidity
of the summer evening.
I can imagine frantic dancers
in colorful clothing
swirling happily like bees at a honey dance
Dorothy Parker once opined that her epitaph should read, "Excuse my dust."
On the anniversary of her death in 1967, we remember the poet and critic who had a strange if not morbid fascination with death. As often as she wrote about suicide, Dorothy Parker died of a heart attack at the age of 73.