The Business of Prison

State prisons have quite the stigma in society for being full of losers, free loaders, and horrible people. This is about 90% accurate. However, there is an estimated 10% that are serving time for car accidents, smoking weed, or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Prisoners are not counted as people, but rather an inmate number.

Child molesters and pot smokers are housed in the same areas like their crimes are even remotely on the same playing field. A man who shoots another person, fails to call for help, and watches a human die on purpose can be charged the same as a man who got into a sober-driving car accident with an unintentional fatality. Both of these crimes hold the same label in most states..."violent felon".

Society seems to think that prison is a free ride, paid for by no one but tax payers. It couldn't be further from the truth. The longer the government can hold someone behind bars, the more money they make. State prison systems are not for rehabilitation like we are led to believe, it is a lucrative business paid for by suffering families. Every phone call, every roll of toilet paper, every dime posted on an inmate's account is charged to either the prisoner or his/her families.

Prison inmates should not be numbers and dollar signs. They are fathers, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, and grandparents. They are human with people that love them. Families are torn away from each other to spend every holiday, every graduation, and every funeral apart. You can say that it is another type of prison for the family members on the outside.

I am engaged to a wonderful man that spent time in the State Prison System. I am lucky enough to say that he is now home with us, where he belongs. He is one of the unfortunate ones that was done wrong by the business of prison. One night after our visit and a four hour drive home, I sat down and just spilled words out onto the paper in hopes my words can paint a picture of the truth.

Table Number 21

Sitting here at table number 21

Staring at the clock

I get his dinner from the machines using my see through bag of quarters

No wallets or too many bills admitted

I watch the security door that leads to the inside

It buzzes and opens, each time a different man coming out to greet his family

Each one in identical suits of gray

Intent on washing away the light in their eyes

I just wait to see when he is going to roll through with a smile meant for me

Take this hug and kiss like it's the only one you're allowed for

the next four hours...because it is

Every word hangs in the air as we capture each

others faces with our memories

We make fun and play cards as we pretend we are anywhere but here

Four hours fly by in a flash...and I hear "time is up! Say your goodbyes!"

It's only then we get to hold each other again

And only for a moment

I hold onto that moment, because then I have to walk away

and leave him behind

Until another day, in another week

When our family can meet again

At table number 21