We walk one behind the other
with our hands clasped behind us
Our towels rolled up in our fists
I used to line up like this
in kindergarten
except with a finger on my lips
walking buddy next to me
If I turned around
or spoke or
stepped out of line
I got in trouble
I always got in trouble
because I always had a friend
in front, in back, and next to me
There was always something
to sayto ask
There was always a joke to tell
to laugh at
But here and now
it’s not a classroom, it’s a cell block
it’s not a restroom, it’s open stalls and showers
it’s not a lunchroom, it’s the mess hall
it’s not friends, it’s inmates, felons, and delinquents
If I squint
I almost can’t tell the difference