i see pencilled in on the calendar
that this morning i am to visit the jail
and deliver an order of the court
to my client held there. fuck. what
should i tell her? the truth? fuck that.
here’s the truth: she doesn’t have
a snowball’s chance in hell of being
released on any kind of bond. she’s
going to be held by the feds until they
try her sometime next year, then she’s
going to be found guilty and sentenced
to five years in federal lock-up, after
which sentence she’ll be deported back
to her home country, the muslim nation
where she’s a christian decidedly in
the minority, where she’ll be harassed
until one night a mob will come to her
home and rape her and kill her and
mutilate her corpse. can’t tell her that.
got to put on a happy face and tell her
everything will be all right, that we’ll
get her out soon. i think i’ll go in
early and get a breakfast burrito. didn’t
get a chance to have much of a supper
last night. some food right now might
improve my mood. then i can tell
my client anything i damn well please,
so long as i don’t tell her the truth.
(Copyright 2023 by Tetman Callis.)