Prison Break

I brought the books to the day room
and held all the dice: ten siders, twenty
four sides and eight
suspicion grew around the sixes
but even those the screws let be –
craps was not allowed
the guards would be on that, however,
our gamble wasn’t for wealth
our game was for more, bigger, classier
beyond cigarettes, steaks and punks…
one thing was sure
thieves always wanted to play thieves
thieves greater than they
more dashing, rakish, experienced
successful – most of all that
The fag liked to play too
He wanted us to know we were fags playing a fag game
strange, he decided to play the bard
a gentle poetic soul, sensitive and acute
in a hostile world of cut-throats, bandits, hustlers
and hard luck drunks…
shop lifters and drunk drivers mostly –
in truth, the fag was our only murderer,
homicide by snow shovel.
He was destined for a serious lockdown.
his lover’s blood so red on the fresh snow
soft flakes falling, frosting over the stain,
melting on the young man’s still warm skin,
so white like the new snow next to the so red blood
as the others rolled dice
and slit the throats of their enemies
our faggot bard sang a song praising our bravery
until our dope dealing wizard ran a magic missile up his ass.

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