AT THE BALLPARK

One day I was watching a baseball game. 
Sitting in the middle of the bleachers.

Smoking a cigarette, observing the awesome
strength and athletic abilities of the players. 

I was struck by the normality of the whole scene.

I noticed the expanse  of manicured green grass
in the outfield. 

As well as the players waiting there to make the
catch that would bring the inning to a close.

Then as I looked a little further back, I saw the razor
wire fence gleaming in sharpness and height. 

Then I was again conscious of the fact that I am in
prison. 

And that was not a lark. 
Nor was it a motherfucking baseball park.