The Shawshank Redemption Brooks Letter To Red Poem by Shaun Cronick

Dear fellas,

I can't believe how fast things move on the outside.
I saw an automobile once when I was a kid,
but now they're everywhere.
The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry.

The parole board got me into this halfway house called "The Brewer"
and a job bagging groceries at the food way.
It's hard work and I try to keep up,
but my hands hurt most of the time.
I don't think the store manager likes me very much.

Sometimes after work, I go to the park and feed the birds.
I keep thinking Jake might just show up and say hello,
but he never does.
I hope wherever he is, he's doing okay and making new friends.

I have trouble sleeping at night.
I have bad dreams, like I'm falling.
I wake up scared.
Sometimes it takes me while to remember where I am.
Maybe I should get me a gun and rob the food way,
so they'd send me home.
I could shoot the manager while I was at it.
Sort of like a bonus.

I guess I'm to old for that sort of nonsense any more.
I don't like it here.
I'm tired of being afraid all the time.
I've decided not to stay.
I doubt they'll kick up any fuss.
Not for an old crook like me.

P.S Tell Heywood I'm sorry I put a knife to his throat.
No hard feelings.

Brooks