Thursday, January 10, 2013

Judge Mental

He enters every room with a flourish, makes all presence known.
The leather of his shoes seem to glide effortlessly over any surface.
The reflection of light off his cuff links is only out shined by the glimmer of his eye.
A spring does no justice to the bounce that is forever a part of every step.

I am speaking, of course, about Judge Mental.

Law schools continue to honor and applaud his life and his folly.
Students pray daily for just the chance they may view him.
Historians are already sharpening their pencils in preparation of his lore.
Books bindings have wondrous dreams that their pages will one day hold his words.

Who else, but no one else, it's Judge Mental.

He goes through motions, without looking like he is going through the motions.
His contemporaries embarrass themselves regularly just to humour him.
The polish oak shelves of the legal library pine for his passing reflection.
Tabs find their own slots, boxes seem to check themselves for all are in awe.

To speak in this way, without care or abandon, it must will always be,

Judge Mental.