that with Death
the first night
is the hardest.
I suspect
it would take
me
a little longer
to grow
accustomed.
In the joint
the old cats
all say,
that when
it comes to
doing time,
the first year
is the hardest.
It takes that
long
to adjust to
the pace,
to the dangers
of poison hooch,
and homemade
shanks,
and the politics
of jealous Nazi
punks who are
top of the food chain
and bottoms
just for fun
because of
late night
visits from
creepy uncles
back home
in the world.
It takes
a while to know
the lay of the land,
the way of things.
It takes a while
to learn to slow
your roll.
I suspect that in Death,
like prison,
the first year may be
the hardest.
