She raced for home on following seas,
Yards squared by a benevolent breeze.
“It’s all right Mom. You know he meant well.” Donny said. His fingers worrying the hem of his sports jacket.
Trying to work up the resolve to comfort her son, she stared at nothing and longed for a cigarette.
“We can’t get him bailed out tonight. It’s too late. And, it’s Friday so they’re probably going to hold him over the weekend,” she said as she leaned against the cold, neutral toned, cinder block wall.