The Girl in the Wire Cage

Every day she makes her way from her place to mine, and every day she has her say to everyone standing in line as I am patiently waiting, and watching the reflection off her hair that tears the rust off my heart. Every day she hands out meds, this Florence Nightingale of Jail and every day I wait my turn to see her lips part Giaconda smile at not seeing me for a while, says my name a little differently, touches my hand a little longer, drops the pill on my skin, and breathes a deep friendly breath, turns, waves and leaves.