ON THE MOVE

My beard has grown. When did that happen? Time must have passed. I’ve talked to people but I do not remember. I think it is March. No, someone said it’s April.
Now I am in a small room with several guys, wearing my own clothes. No more brown jump suit that was way too large. Did I do that or did they do that while I was asleep? I don’t remember sleeping, at least not much. I am eating baloney and cheese sandwiches, something I have not had since I was in elementary school. When was that? It is difficult to eat with these handcuffs on my wrists. Is this some kind of twisted dream? I notice I am also chained to another guy who is ravenously eating. Do I know him?
We walk as best we can through a dark tunnel and are put on a bus. It is difficult with one ankle chained to my new partner. It must be night as it is cold and dark. It is cold in the hard plastic chair I finally manage to fall into beside my chain mate. The bus finally moves. Now I can see the sun. Was it always there and I missed it? It is cold. The only windows are up front or the small ones up high that I can see out of when I stand. Now I see the sun come up and we are headed into it. Then we stop so the guards can eat. We do not eat. I smell the grease of fast food and exhaust smells of the bus and get a queasy feeling in my stomach. There is no talking. My body hurts, so I stand, or try to stand as the bus motion and leg chains make it difficult. Most are sleeping. I try but it is now so hot it is difficult. Suddenly we are ‘there’ and told to leave. That is new being chained to a guy, but I adapt. I am reminded of the sack race I once ran with my son. Wish I was back there now. Did I dream that or this? I can’t tell.
We rise and file out to a tight room where a guy in a white shirt is yelling at all of us. “You eye ballin’ me?” hangs in the air. I do not know what is going on as I stare at the floor. We are finally unchained and told to ‘feel the wall’. Then we wait.
We are directed here and there. In and out of cages where some are left behind and the rest of us parade single file further to wait. We are again in different clothes, clean ones at least this time. I remember getting my head shaved and given a cup of something and told to put it on my hair and shower. But you shaved my hair. There is only cold water and a very small hand towel but I manage. This must be a mistake. This must be a dream. The new clothes are clean, pressed and folded this time and a forest green that will become a familiar shade.
Again we are moved like sheep from one large caged room to another, usually one by one. It seems we do a great deal of waiting. Get used to it I am told, lots of it in here. Where is here? Is it for long? Is it over?
Then a group of us are moved to another building though yet another tunnel. At least there are no chains this time. With a sarcastic tone we are told we have reached our new home inside corrections. Hallelujah.
Now what?

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