I walk alone in the 9-to-5 crowd through Foley Square, where the courthouses are clustered. I glance at the inscription above the entrance to the New York State Supreme Court building: “The true administration of justice is the firmest pillar of good government.”
"A feel-good Hallmark quote," I murmur to myself. Just up the block, in a courtroom on the fifteenth floor of the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse, the value of this inscription is about to be put to the test.
Alone in my office cubicle, editing and writing, I'm anxious all morning, as if walking through a maze blindfolded. I know there is a way out, but the twists, turns, and obstacles leave me feeling overwhelmed. All of a sudden, I hear one ring tone after another from other cubicles, then my ring tone comes, sounding loud ... and louder. No one says anything until the end of our longest work day ever.
unconditional discharge ...
I walk with winter gales
into the gathering dark
sleepless again ...
I count Trump's crimes backwards
into oblivion
