scanned and belt cleared,
heard the word of the judge
about patriotic duty,
everyone with their books and impatience,
then there's me.
Found a seat near a window,
not too sunny and near a wall outlet,
out of the line of sight from the focus of sheriffs;
we all have a role but I wish I were hiking a creek
with a girl and a dog instead of here.
This is the moment
I don't want to hear the phrase
'Life is short'...
can you imagine dying in jury duty?
Waiting to be selected or dismissed
and then a heart attack snatches
your last boring minutes,
only to allow the other jurors
to go home early.
I should've brought my laptop
but the New York City clerk of courts
should also have beds or couches
instead of hard benches and uncomfortable
I should've snuck in some whiskey
in some coffee or vodka in some oj,
but at least I have my books and impatience,
both wet from the rain,
and then there's me.
Charging my phone in the back
with another guy in the same outlet,
and I am too old to sit
indian style anymore,
but standing seems pointless at this juncture.
I know it's my civic responsibility
to do this and participate in impartiality,
but they should really show movies
or at least have SportsCenter on a big tv;
hell, they don't even have elevator music to ignore.
Maybe they should offer free food or wifi,
it sure would make this talk of willingness more willing,
and then there's me,
with hurt back,
checking out the full-figured black chick in front of me.