Bad food

The bad food is back again.

Mondays through Fridays.

Solitary confinement.



Can’t take my stash along.

But I got some cash on me.

Maybe I can bribe a criminal.


They serve the cell block.

Cleaning, serving food.

One guy is friendly.


I promised him good cash for produce.

Today he told me that there was no transport again.

Second week in a row without calling anyone out to pack.


Folks immediately panic.

What if they end the program?

Being alone all day doesn’t help.


I spend my days reading and playing little stupid games.

Over here the newspaper comes every day.

My arm is itching in the cast.


Got a letter today from mom.

They’re looking for new jobs.

Out of their state controlled firms.


Can’t wait to go back to the boys tomorrow.

Just for the weekend till Monday again.

It’s hard not to talk in days.


The thinking gets louder.

It’s funny on happy thoughts.

It hurts when I think of my family.