you remember when we held bottles of wine
and roamed the streets like mad escaped
prisoners during that December blackout?
you were drunk for the first time and said ‘I love you, Alec’ and I turned to you
thinking, rather knowing, my name
wasn’t Alec, and I told myself, ‘why start an argument
with the night so young,’ and besides, most
wives make such mistakes now and again, right?
Poem For A Friend In Prison:
by A.D. Winans
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