slowly, I watch the second hand journey
around
and around
each minute taking me one step closer to death
each tick another lost instance
one more opportunity gone
eyes cross and vision blurs
at the mindless spinning
never ending swirl
capturing perfectly
the uselessness of this time
I am a babysitter
for grown men.
Working in prison
is all about time
line-movements
CB calls
and the eternal counting of bodies
every minute accounted for
each body forever monitored
authorized areas only –
I find myself doing time
not necessarily ‘hard’
but consistent…
I watch new guys enter the program
as old guys leave with degrees
the revolving door of college inside
yet, I remain constant as the tide
or the rising and setting sun
I am a voluntary lifer
a small, but important club.