Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Long before we knew what the deal was
we made a deal. Usually two lawyers will be
at each other’s jugular. But there we were,
occasionally - it felt this way -- looking over
at a bewildered jury, arguing the same point.
No-one more vigorous in agreement, than us.
Where is the litigant? What is this about, then?
It’s about something more people should be
shouting about, you railed. I stood, Objection,
your honor, I would say what she said [pointing]
but would jump up and down while doing so!
Sustained, said the venerable old goat.
Did you see me wink [at you?] Did the jurors?
And I gave up my gardening for this? thought one.
True enough, our day in court was a big farce,
the epitome of a mistrial. Mostly for not existing.
At The Pier, dangling our feet in the water, we
agreed on a promise, vowing never to forget
who we were to ourselves, and to each other.
And we kept that promise, not shaking on it.
Just looking into the sunset. That was the deal.
© Ciprianowords Inc. 2009