Love letters from a jail cell
are always signed, 'I wish you well'
where' they're from I'll never tell
I throw them all into the well
In the darkness and the wet
the ink runs and dissipates
it makes a murky fog
that even the bull frogs hate
I hear them chirping and burping
late at night
in the haze over the lake
meanwhile he's in his tiny cell
thinking over his mistakes
and here I am running free
but I am not a woman
I am just his
imagination.
