5278. WHEN I LAST KISSED AUNT JEMIMA

WHEN I LAST KISSED 

AUNT JEMIMA

There wasn't nothing to be told  -  just needles in the

mouth where teeth should be, and a handful, a pocket, 

of gold. Sitting at length behind gray prison bars, I

noticed the time it was drawing  -  near to close, less

to open; a prison warden's weirdest friend is the

conjugal motion. This meant lights out in some

messy drawer of intention.

-

I told Aunt Jemima to settle. I told her my clothes,

none were fitting  -  my collars were broken and 

the shirtsleeves too short. Nothing like that in my

contract or sentence. They never said such

a thing in the court. Why should I stay?

-

I kissed Aunt Jemima good-bye.

Then I kissed her again for

good luck.