local_library Declaring bankruptcy in an old courthouse building

by John Wilson

Published in Issue No. 178 ~ March, 2012

There was a way about her

As she shuffled her feet

Across the old courthouse floor

And took a seat at the front desk

To swear what she was saying was truth.

 

I watched her from my seat

Behind other men and women

My eyes transfixed on the back of her head

My ears hearing her erratic breathing

Her lawyer patting her on the shoulder.

 

After she said to the recorder that everything was true

She stated her name and address

And the man behind the desk grinned.

“It’s all over, now,” the lawyer said, laughing.

As she stood and turned to the lifeless crowd.

 

They walked down the aisle, to the front door

“Don’t worry about money problems anymore,”

He said. “How does it feel?”

She said nothing as the door opened, then closed behind her.

The man behind the desk called my name next.

 

I felt the crowd’s eyes on me as I swore my shit was truth.

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Born in the backwoods of South Georgia in a truck stop toilet, Jimmy M.F. Pudge came into this world on 6-9-1979. Incarcerated on several false charges in the past, he has extensive knowledge about the criminal mind and incorporates it into all of his magical poems of dirty truths.