“It’s 5 days till commissary
we’ve got $ in the books for commissary
and we are gonna
get fat on wham wham’s and zu zu’s” my bunky says
She has just returned from her third felony arraignment.
Transference. Talking coffee. Talking tootsies.
Talking anything other than time.
Big bags of pretzels and honeybuns.
When I ask if she’s okay her eyes well with oceans of what ifs.
Rivers of doubt.
But she laughs and punches my arm and says
“Load the wagon, I’ll pull it.”
