for Alex*

a man holds a good book
as if his hands are cuffed

turns each page
if only to relieve
this, that, wrist

when late
he may
set the book down
to light, or drop
a match

his whole life, planned out
the lit and the dropped

he may pause
here and there
to smoke
to belabor

the end of his life
where he sees himself
slipping from the cuffs
which undoubtedly
fall, then disappear

into some
nightly sound
that wakes his wife

who disoriented
is thankful
she will be on time

     her first date
with a man
not yet
apprehended