Jesse Almond died last night
In the novel that I am writing
She was my childhood friend
And we spent many happy years together
I thought I might marry her eventually
But then I became contaminated
And found that she could not exist
In my short stories
When I told her about this she moved to France
And then on to Argentina
To work on the Southern Fuegian Railway
We correspond frequently
And occasionally she sends me a lock
Of her raven hair
She is still quite angry with me
And will not return
Until she lives again in my poetry