When my ex-husband dies,
I will buy a red dress.
The dress will be the brightest red it can be.
It will be made of silky, flouncy material.
Maybe it will be real silk.
The dress will have a skirt that whirls and twirls when I dance.
I will dance on his grave.
Then I will dance on the graves of all the men who prostituted me.
I will dance so hard, and I will dance so fast, whirling and twirling.
Then I will dance straight into a grave of my own.