Yesterday I wrote to a judge
on the behalf of an old friend
who has done the unthinkable.
“Sitting where you are,
Your Honor,
you could not possibly know
the boy”—the
man,
the

What do you call it when
the desire of an “I
told you so!” stales
to nothingness.
Silence. Everybody
is invincible



“30 years.” the voice came through
the collect call from County.
“They gave me thirty, thanks
for nothing,” said the
the
murderer.

But now there’s nothing for you,
but time and prison wine.