The lawyer adjusts his suit and drops his key
The door won't lock and each time he gets the key to the lock
his slippery hands lose grip on the key
Then fall and he must bend to pick them up again
each occasion requiring him to adjust his suit
expletives now rule his voice box
All other expression has been boycotted
He attempts one last time it locks
He carefully navigates the steps downward
The distant sound of folk music pinches his ear
As he gets down to the main street he sees
dozens of enthusiastic dancers dressed in white
Using the pavement and road to prance
step twirl and shimmy with gleeful purpose
He avoids it all and heads straight for the circle of youth
Arriving just on time as the defendent was sitting down
He sat next to the beautiful plantiff who dressed in morning
Even though it was the end of the day
He asked him directly if he had infact interferred with her
He nodded without speaking eyes uncaring
boiling orange sunset reflecting of his colorless face
The plantiff interrupted and swore that she had welcomed it
The lawyer's body hardened as the sunset soaked into everyone
A stationary object now just waiting for the homage plaque
Unable to remove his own soul from the circle
living out the trial in the hot wet waves
of a never ending sunset
Illusions of control
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