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Eyes betray the slate grey walls of Jessup Correctional.
14 with a baseball bat, swung and made contact with felony charges.
Tried as an adult cried like a child when cell doors swung behind her.
Braided corn rowed child of corners, alleys smelling of piss and malt
liquor. Ethereal willow growing out of abandoned houses lost to the
American Scheme, learning to fight by being beaten, waiting for her
turn to show she learned well the song of the streets. Singing that
song under her breath mouthing the words to a cliche' made real by
zip code prisoners trapped inside their own skulls. Truthful wrinkles
and tiny valleys surround the eyes of Snoop. Hugging herself as she
sleeps, no love in these streets. Sinew and muscle memory is all she
has. Maybe she has seen too much....
