Saint Peter in Prison

I’ve been programmed

I get it now

When we know

what we’re supposed to do

and when we’re supposed to do it

there’s no room

for memories

for regret

for fear

for dreams

to slip in

Every single minute of our time

is scheduled

except free time, which isn’t free

Except time in our cell

which isn’t time

it’s hell

when we’re left alone

with just our thoughts

our memories

our regret

our fears

our dreams

to slip in

like a sliver of light

So I read and read and read

when there is no blank paper

no blank canvas

to tell this story

I return the books to the library

and I freeze where I’m standing

when I see who’s in there

Imani

is standing next to a table

where three other guys are sitting

reading

Hey, Amal

she says

And the sun rises

over the city on my chest

What you been reading?

Let me see

She takes the books from me

one by one

reading the front and back covers

You have good taste, Amal

I nod

and keep my eye on the other guys

They let me use the library today

for some small-group work

These young men are submitting their

writing to a website

Their words will be read by

thousands of people

That’s cool, right?

she says with only her eyes smiling

And I glance at those guys

heads down

typing words into a laptop

I take my books from her

and keep it moving

Hoping that those guys

will leave

so I can ask

if this is something I can do, too

or is this something just

for good behavior