[People in Cages losing freedom in stages — Policy police on the fly — Some simply shuffling the pages — Somewhat the greater Good or the woulda shoulda cause they could. — One or another the sellout — And it’s always a good day to die. — Kickbacks paybacks and how much to shell out — The Corporate Beast — One or another Spy versus Spy — So many gathered for the celebratory Feast — Centrally Booking oh sigh. — Another industry not impartially to tow — So circular for the crusty lemon Pie — Whichever the way should we go — Somebody just wanna get high. — Rupert LikesTo Rhyme]
Led from the stone cold closet to the well lit room across the hall I sat with Vonnegut and Boris the Russian Spy on another metal bench while others were printed and photographed — Three men were escorted into the room behind us. One butt up in line and was immediately taken for processing. The other two sat to my left at the end of the line. “Ya got a match” one of the men asked leaning into me.
“You’re joking right.”
“You can get anything in here.”
“Don’t talk to me,
"I'll kick your sorry fuckin ass," the man at the end of the line said.
I looked straight ahead and was called next, though not next in line, to be finger printed and photographed.
"Duda - Sullivan Duda."
"Here," I said raising my hand.