Visitor’s Pass
An ounce more of self-control, a sliver of luck (or lack thereof): the only forces separating us, besides the guards gazing suspiciously through the stagnant air and electric gates lurching heavily to block access in the rusted chain-linked maze. Inside, we taunt stiff officers with our giggles escaping freely out of our bellies, ricocheting off of out-of-service vending machines. Our hopes work as balm on wounds inflicted by mistakes; our smiles serve as shade from the heat of other inmates’ glares. We share memories to feel. We plan the faraway future to hope. We throw jokes to forget, like skipping stones dancing on the duct-taped linoleum, our laughter bursting out defiantly floating around the watchful tower and beyond the crowded walls.
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AuthorWord by word, I piece together the pictures and stories in my head. Archives
March 2021
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