it's cold in here, in this cell.
the mattress
is hard.
the food awful.
stale bread,
dried
meat, porridge, really?
he laughs.
and shakes his head,
then pats
his round belly.
prime last night, he
says.
my wife sure can cook.
now lights out,
go to bed.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment