The trial is almost over, the attorneys have argued
philosophy instead of law, each holding to ideals
we can never quite attain in this life. A jury
would be worthless. You have no money to pay
mileage or per diem anyway. You have listened
to all of the extenuating circumstances
and must measure the clarity attained since
the beginning, whether tortoise or hare,
neither speed nor time are factors anymore.
Did the distance come easy, did you not feel
Dante’s sins set-up camp beneath your skin,
were you immune and not succumb to learning
the hard way—not learn a thing? Out here
there are few secrets left, no place to hide—no
commotion or combustion cloud to float within.