Why There's Three Chairs
The first question
You're asked
When you arrive is
What do you declare
It's not like customs
About what you are carrying
The guards have other ways
For checking for that
Without asking
The guards want to know
For your protection
And theirs
What race do you declare
What are your gang affiliations
Do you need protective custody
Your race decides a lot for you
Decides who they'll house you with
Determines when
You'll be locked down
Allowed on the Yard
If you need an escort
It all depends
On your answer
To that first question
Yes they'll get around
To asking you if you want to harm yourself
Or others
What meds you're on
Do you hear voices
But above all race matters
For your protection
To minimize the potential
Of fights in a two man cell
The guards try
To match you up
The best they can
With someone you can tolerate
Locked in a five by nine-foot cell
[...] Read more
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Added by Poetry Lover
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