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


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