"Mostly, she can contain herself, except once.
When she was waiting for a training meeting
to begin, three men on one end of the fake wood oblong table,
they were talking about stress, the job,
not enough hours in the day, a new meditation app
on their phones, soccer practices,
fights with the other soccer dad.
Then they were bragging about violence,
chests cocked out, how they got kicked off the field, how
they scream and flexed and threw a fit
in front of their children.
They were laughing.
It was so funny.
One of them said, I'd be fine going to prison.
The other one nodded, grinning, as if it
was a strip club or a dive bar they
had never been invited to because they
were deemed too clean.
Then one of them repeated that he'd be fine going to prison
because he had so much reading to do,
so much catching up on books that his wife stacked
next to the bed for him.
And there'd be time away from his wife, too,
and the push-ups, the workouts in the yard.
Do they call it a yard?
Sure, yeah.
They'd be fine going to prison."