
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…
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