I have only two more days
to serve
And I have a hundred blank sheets
I’ll arrive home before my mail
gets there

So what am I gonna do with these
paper sheets?
I can turn each one into
a little plane
But my cell is too small for flights
I could write a poem on every
paper piece
But I don’t know how to rhyme

If I’d knew how to draw
I’d draw my wife’s portrait on each
paper sheet

But I don’t know how to draw
And my wife left me long ago

I can get home faster then
any postman
To find a pile of letters and postcards
in a puddle next to my porch
And grow that pile by a hundred
blank sheets
And then see if my key works