Dirty Tommy Poem by James McLain

After spending to many years in prison
I survived
but only at a great price
and permanent psychological
damage.

Tommy, dirty Tommy is a head hunter, booty bandit,
the lizard
as most whom wear dentures are generally called.

Spending an inordinate amount of time and thinking
but could they do it here, here or there.
Lucky was I to spend the last few years of my
sentence here.

The guards knew all of the tricks of the trade,
and I was used to this quiet, laid back prison as a nice place.
Never monitored were the showers or bath stalls
the urinals their handle bars
and more bars of soap on the floor than I could count.

I learned then that no secret was safe
and unless I gave in while he milked it
as to Tommys joy
my being a librarian was my great misfortune.

I remember one day being in the young adult section
and noticed rhythmical movement
out of he corner of my eye, my day job.
And under dirty Tommys, table he worked with his hands
kneading dough
while another young fellow his eyes open wide
moved independantly of each other.

This was too much,
and every day, I held out made it that much more
he would get.
I said to Tommy about this kind of business
he called it kindness then
he winked and smiled.

Apparently jealous of Tommy,
this orher person at great risk to him self
stood up and moved away
these kind of secrets most kept to them selves.