Jason Allen, hot-shot clothes designer, jet set king
died today at age 36.
Burnt alive from a fire in his Manhattan apartment.
His name frequently mentioned in gossip columns,
Cosmopolitan, Vanity Fair, People Magazine.
His designs were worn at the Emmys, Golden Globes, Oscar night.
He was photographed everywhere, an entourage at his side.
I once saw Jason on Oprah,
his pretty face in a smiling glow as he proclaimed,
“I’m positively, absolutely, 100 percent heterosexual!”
Jason Allen died in a fire last night
no makeup or special camera lens will hide his burnt toast skin,
a closed casket, but it will be an elegant funeral just the same.
The NYPD fire chief said, “The fire started due to an electrical malfunction.”
The coroner stated, “We made a positive ID through dental X-rays.”
A spokesperson for his company said, “Wearing clothes
designed by Jason Allen was like choosing a lifestyle.”
Now wait, why am I wasting my time reading about his death?
Is it to gloat that this pretty boy clothes designer is dead?
Anyone who says, “I’m positively, absolutely, 100 percent heterosexual”
maybe deserves to be burnt to a crisp.
Maybe his death was as high brow as his designs.
Dying in a fire is more valiant than dying in a car crash,
more romantic than a drug overdose,
more dramatic than crashing to the ground from rock climbing.
Jason Allen, hot-shot clothes designer, jet set king
died today at age 36.
© Copyright Tom Wawzenek 2011