(This isn’t prosody, people. Every riddle gets overly ridiculous, eventually.)
I spent the morning in court, with people who had been caught
travestying justice: urinating on lampposts,
owning uninsured commercial vehicles, riding bikes.
Lothario with the lidded eyes had been caught “exiting at an un-
designated exit.” I was summoned for political purposes, and
yes, unhappy about it all.
On the bench: a doddering magistrate, with six rubber stamps.
Under my feet: a rain-soaked umbrella.
In the courtroom: four court police officers, six la-
wyers (include a guy who was so recently graduated you c-
ould still see the linear impression on his finger where his grad-
uation ring had recently lodged), a guy in a white shirt who kept
lying supine on his bench. The police officers did not
dig this man. We were thirty petty criminals. The
woman next to me had been arrested for selling
Rastafarian clothing on the street. She came wrapped in tr-
icolor ascots and a tan skirt with a matching
tan shirt with marijuana leaf patches on the sl-
eeves.
Alert and exhausted, I waited for my law-talking guy. He sat
next to me. He knew one of the police officers and gave him
a friendly nod. I waited patiently and offered my most
contrite expression, to no one at all, because no one cared o-
r looked. Captives love their captors: I fell in love with my judge,
ornery guy. I fell out of love when a headline brought
sense back into me: “LASER LOSER.” After an hour,
the judge called my name. Tentatively, I approached. My law-talk-
ing guy made a good case for me. But the judge
cupped his rubber stamp in hand before I even approached.
February, he said, come back to court.
Overall, a shitty time. It is terrifying to be at the whim of a c-
riminal justice system that I don’t understand and I can onl-
y feel grateful for not being in a position where I encounter this
often. Does this pay the bills for the judges and cops and infrastr-
ucture? I wonder how much revenue a cop brings the city, a-
rbitrarily enforcing the lesser laws of the city so.
Apprehending the unlucky can stimulate the economy. I’m
jaded. Writing this makes me feel crazy. Thanks a lot, Raj.
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
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