sixty days in the jump

jake would

ask me to visit him in jail.

talk to him

over the phone

separated by plexiglass.

i need

some commissary money

he'd tell me.

which he used

for cigarettes, not food.

he'd always gain weight

when doing

sixty days in the pokey

for a bar

fight or another DUI.

his cousin, Bobby Lee was

a guard at the county

jail.

he'd slip him in pizza,

and fried chicken

for lunch everyday.

milkshakes doused

with whiskey.

by the end of his stint

in the jump, jake would

need bigger clothes.

new painter paints

and a wider belt.

then he was once again

rested and ready to go.

standing outside a 7-11

waiting for me to pick

him up in my truck.