Poison Pen

My first impression was when I peered out the narrow window across from my cell and saw the leaves changing color. Then it hit me. Next year, at this same time, I would be watching the leaves change from this same building. My gut wrenched and I sat down on my bunk. I had a few pieces of paper to begin with and I got down on my knees, using my bunk as a table, and began to write. The noise was overwhelming as the mechanical barred doors hummed open and closed. Two years. For me, it began in Maximum Security because I was seen as a "rabbit", someone who was an escape risk. I had been a fugitive for over two years. When the police came for me, my girl-friend and I jumped from the balcony of our 2nd floor apartment and started to run across a field. We heard a shout, "Stop, you m-----f-----s, or we'll shoot", and we turned. There was a line of cops, all in position, with their guns pointed at us. I used to tell people I hung out with in Portland, Oregon, "I'm not leaving to go back to Massachusetts unless they take me in chains." And they did. That was how this book began.