False Witness
by Ken Volonte
I could stop to ask, "Whose fault
That a friend of mine was killed last Saturday?"
Although to him it was still Friday,
So late or early was the hour.
My imagining could vault;
And I could say, "Oh, no! It isn't he."
But at that time and on that stretch of road,
It would be Jeff.
Oh, Jeff!
I could blame God,
Or the highway patrol.
I could say I had no right to live,
To live when Jeff had died,
To see him in every face on the street -
I could tell you stories,
But I won't.
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