Tom Driscoll

Three days in jail or one hundred dollars.
                        for John

His old car broken down, the house come down
around his ears, midnight security
earned him barely enough to eat and smoke,
I think he walked a thousand miles that year,
that last year my brother lived so alone.

And I recall what he said to the judge
his sorry day in court, that he could not
afford to pay attention, let alone
his fine, his wry smile at the play on words,
Your honor, I couldn’t —pay— attention.

My brother gone —is it five years next week?
The years, their days, hours, minutes, counted out—
the final coins in an old man’s pocket.

Tom Driscoll lives in Framingham, Mass with his wife, artist Denise Driscoll. His most recently published collection is ‘April: 30 Poems’ (2021). His poetry has appeared in The Worcester Review, Oddball Magazine, Carcosa Magazine, Decadent Review, Drawn To The Light, What Rough Beast and Moonstone Arts Center’s Poetry Ink Anthology