The women were scattered and sticking to their uncomfortable comfort zones
There was a boom box by the officer’s area which mainly consisted of standing at the door
The door back to the inside of the Rose M Singer Center
Which was a women’s detention center
Which sat on top of a landfill called Rikers Island
Planes would fly overhead frequently due to an Airport nearby
Everyone had awkward poses and either watched others
Or overcompensated with explaining the simplest of situations
With theatrics and dramatics speaking loud and talking with their hands
But that’s the sign language of street new yorkers
I sat there looking at the planes and my thoughts were erratic
I couldn’t believe this was my life
And thought about being on one of those planes
And then thought about where would I go?
I figured this is a bad movie so happiness doesn’t exist
So you might as well get tough and be reckless
But deep down I knew I wasn’t that tough or mean
The music was loud and I couldn’t loosen up and enjoy the rhythm
But then I saw a woman that I had seen when she was being intaken
And she had layers of clothes like a BAGLADY
Like the type that was homeless on was talking to herself
But then the song changed and she went into the center of this outside rec area
And started to dance
She had me mesmerized
She had moves I have never seen before
Simple, not overstated but the rhythm was magical
Still in her own world
But now her world made sense
And she had the beauty of someone that had never
been part of society so stopped worrying about who was watching
I almost envied her
The outskirts of women watched her
and there was a weird connection between
What seemed all of us
