I remembered him as a good kid
in high school, quiet and always
well behaved.
I hadn’t seen him in years until
I met him one day on a street
in the city we lived in.
he’d changed beyond anything
I ever would have expected.
he said he’d just got out of
prison and knew he’d be going
back and didn’t care.
I didn’t ask him what crime he
had committed that put him in
prison.
I didn’t want to pry, and I was too
shocked that this once good kid
had surprisingly become
a criminal and didn’t care about
being imprisoned again.
Maybe his criminality was
simmering under his well behaved
and quiet nature.
Maybe the good kid was
always engaged in hidden
criminal acts and never got
caught until he got older
and less cautious.
I don’t know, and I’ll never
understand his metamorphose
from a good kid to a criminal
indifferent to imprisonment.
bob boyd