“Thoughts on the First Case” by Jonathan Jones

It was a ticket to the movies
folded once neat and straight
down the middle. A bullet
meant for someone else.

The suit wasn’t new. It was the suit I always wore to jail.
Darker blue than darker blue.

It was a clue, lonely as California,
or a faithful wife. Neither motive
nor missing person offered no
sign of morning or night.

I didn’t leave a tip. I had no green grass American lawyer,
bail set at 25 bucks.

Stopping at the first bar I came to
I thought of that ticket.
All the innocent trouble it had caused
and not having the words to explain.

For more poems by Jonathan, check out FIVE Vol. 1 No. 4.