no justice

you stop for a quick cup
of coffee and a donut, parking
your car for a mere five minutes
in what seems like
a very legal spot. you don't see
the blue handicap sign behind
the sagging branch of a leaf
covered limb. the road is freshly
paved so there are no marks
saying don't park here unless
you are limping, in a wheel
chair, or closing in on death.
you pull the ticket off your
windshield and spit out your
coffee and glazed donut into
the wind. one hundred and
seventy eight dollars it says
in smeared cheap small town ink.
you say something like what
the hell, but not using the word
hell and instead choosing a
more colorful word that
rhymes with bad luck.
you decide to fight this injustice
with your own quick wit
and sense of freedom.
you go home to watch
court room dramas, to
kill a  mockingbird. you
are atticus finch. perry
mason, you are paul newman
in the verdict. these people
can't handle the truth. you will
sway the jury with your
knowledge of the legal system,
if a man can't buy a cup
of coffee and a donut in
this town without being
harrassed and gouged by
the man, well isn't that an
indictment on all of society.
isn't that saying the world
as we know it is coming to an
end. but you sigh and write
the check. it's hopeless, and
it wasn't even a good donut
to begin with. should have
bought the bear claw.