Isn't it funny how the fruit sours?
How our grand resentments turn to pleasure freely
As if we had never truly held them back all this time.
***
Every man and woman who sits in this chair
And holds in their hand this gavel
And wears this archaic robe knows, really,
Very little about the little guy beneath the podium.
***
And in return, the little guy knows very little about me too.
But still, despite knowing so little,
We must judge each other, and find each other guilty
***
For there is only one fruit, and we are both starved.