The Picture

My friend, she had the cancer in her spine.
We wrote each other many lines
She said I was her closest friend.

Twenty-three
The years we wrote
I was missing
Writing notes.

I went to a good service
For a pen pal doing service work
They sent me a good woman
Trying to stay clean
From methamphetamine.

I bonded with her well.
And then did something smell.
Something just wasn't right.

I called the warden
And he said.
'There's not a woman here.
Do you have any clue
What these people have done,
A clue?'

'No! I said
It couldn't be.
He has my picture;
Don't you see?!'

And I thought if changing
FACES
changing
PLACES
And I got a p.o. box
Awaiting January
Twenty-sixth '13
'Cause that's when he'll be seen
About parole.

8-20-09