IN AND AROUND WE GO

I work all the time, so when I'm having a moment to relax, I do laps around the recreation yard. It's my East River Park (where I grew up in New York), where I escape the day-to-day grind. I never listen to my music, because I tend to run into men that I talk to. So no music.

The recreation yard is massive. Three laps is nearly a mile. On a good day, I get about seven laps in, usually more if they let us remain outside past our time period (1:30 PM to 3:30 PM). We have a baseball diamond, a weight pit, a basketball court, horseshoe pits, a soccer field, and a volleyball court. There are numerous picnic tables, five phone booths (three operational), and one water fountain.

When out there, you can see a road camp where incarcerated men work outside. There are vehicles that we admire, but I'm always eyeing the surrounding forest. Why? My Black butt graduated from Urban Forestry. I can climb trees, use pole saws, a chainsaw...shoot, they used to call me Chainsaw Tut. Anyway, that's why I stare at the trees when I'm out.

Now I am a well-known man on Nottoway. I tend to have someone by my side when I'm out walking. It's usually Wood, or Lee. Both men have done time with me in different facilities. So when they see me, we start walking.

Wood is a good brother who always has me thinking about why I hang out with him. He doesn't want freedom, just a leg up in prison. I'm talking commissary, a good job, and a great celly. When he talks, I'm always drifting back to my cell, where I'm working on my latest screenplay. So as he chats about a parlay ticket, I'm painting a scene in my head.

Now if I'm walking with Lee, I'm about to tune him out completely. He's angry all the time, and Muslim. One complains about his brothers, and how the prison sucks, because everybody that comes in now is messed up mentally. I smile. I walk. I see that I'm not in this mindset, and that lets me know that I'm blessed that I worked through my issues.

These men are my peers, yes, but also a mirror of what I'm a part of: lost souls that aren't getting the help they deserve. I used to talk endlessly with them about being more than an inmate, but after twenty times trying, I stopped. I planted the seed, now they have to nurture it.

So I peel away from them and do pull-ups. I heard this formerly incarcerated man say that when he works out, he's pulling himself closer to God. That grabbed my soul when I heard that. I do them all the time, because getting closer to God under the bluest sky I have ever seen makes my day complete.

The men around me work out all day long. They're shirtless, skin-onyx, and inked with prison lore. Their bravado arrives when they discuss gun battles, sex with countless women, and sports. They're my music. I tune into them like the glorified rappers that never did real-time. I keep those verses in my head, remembering that I'm outside to escape prison. I made it happen when I discovered I could think for myself.

What prison has been and will continue to be is a hellhole. So when I hear what I'm hearing, I call on what I traversed through for twenty-six years: my education. I hear lyrics from men that haven't reached Jay-Z's 4:44 album. They're still NBA Youngboys, who think being a gangsta with a gun is the wave.

Around and around, I go, immersed in my education, realizing what I'm doing: escaping the prison, and heading home. What are you walking to?