You have a collect call
from the Peoria County Jail.
This conversation may be monitored.
A mere moment ago, I was
cooking my pizza rolls.
I wasn't even supposed to be home.
Of course, I...
accepted the call.
My hand shook.
My heart palpitated.
I did self-talk.
It's only him, the man
I've laid beside naked,
the man whose soul has
woven itself into mine,
the man who brings the
guy in the baseball cap
cross-cut fries-
MY man, and he's innocent!
You have a call from jail
the cold plastic echoed,
and I thought about my shrimp
served with lemon wedges by
a man in safety orange.
It's not your color, I whispered
as he said "hello."
My heart ached to see him
in his Bears jersey again.
I wanted to ask if they'd allow
a conjugal visit, because
that's always been a fantasy of mine,
but I sensed this wasn't the time
for a "Jailhouse Rock."
Besides, I was afraid they
wouldn't have my standard
pink fur handcuffs readily available.
"Hello," he said and his voice
pierced right through my heart.
He said he needed
to hear a woman's voice.
So, as sweetly as I could,
I told him how much I cared.
What more can a woman say
to a repressed jailbird
who should have been an eagle?
An eagle bearing a
white porcelain plate
filled with cross-cut fries.
