Poem: One Night in Wood-Ridge Municipal Court

“If you’re pleading guilty, you better have money
or call a friend or relative,” Judge Janeczo barks.
I guess I’m going to fight that speeding ticket then.
I scoff at the prosecutor’s point reduction plea deal.
And wait until I’m almost the last one left.

Guilty pleas and dropped charges first.

A red-faced woman drops simple assault
Charges against her ex.
“Where did it happen?” Judge Janeczko asks.
“Her mother’s house.”
“Are you still boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“No.”
Case dismissed.

A Capri cosmetologist blew a .20 but wants
A furlough for three weeks to finish school.
“Do you realize that most people can’t stand
up with a .20?” the judge asks.
Break given. DWI fines paid.

A buxom brunette pleads no contest
To disorderly contact for freaking out
On police for trying to arrest her friend.
Snickers in the courtroom from the
Burly guy next to me and his biker girlfriend.
“Do you realize this is going to follow you
around for the rest of your life?”
She does. I have to wonder what her future
Employment prospects will hold.

The burly guy is up.
Three cops stand next to him off to the side.
He decides he wants a lawyer for a charge
Statute number I’m not sure of.
But I sense he may have brawled with
These three men in blue

Cause they were pretty incensed, and so
Was the prosecutor, that justice hasn’t
Served him yet.

A teenager in a FYE “Get Used” shirt
Pleads no contest to pot possession.
“You know this pretrial intervention
thing is a one time deal, right? Next time
you get the full monty.”
But you have to pay to get in this program.
FYE just paid me for all my used CDs
So I could have enough money to pay
My utilities.

Everyone pays, some more dearly than
Others in this court.
This court has collected at least $3,000 tonight
So far.

I’m like the last one left. Prosecutor inches
Toward me. “What would you do in my situation?”
I ask, tears beginning to flow.
I go outside with him and spill my guts.
I have no money and don’t wanna get cuffed
For a damned speeding ticket.

He says he’ll talk to the judge.
It’ll work out.

I go before his honor.
“I make $800 a month,” I say, sobbing.
Anything, even $10 would make me happy.
I open my measly wallet, showing him I have
Nothing.
The deal is $50 next week, $89 during the next
Two months. A $35 defensive driving course
Will erase the points.
Guess I won’t be getting tires anytime soon.