Those Kids

Receiving the jury summons reminded me of serving on the grand jury and this poem I wrote then:

those kids

they haunt me, those kids,
the ones whose lives
change in the instant -
a single bad decision,
a drug induced tragedy,
and they're lookin' at life
behind bars,
the metal kind,
not even legal yet
for the other.

they won't let me sleep, those kids,
the ones who have kids
while still kids,
who want their drug-dealing
boyfriends out of jail.
who cares if they killed someone?
they want their baby’s daddy home,
think that would be
a good thing.

they keep me up nights, those kids,
the ones who shoot each other
in the parking lots
over broken windows,
broken hearts,
broken lives,
just a matter of time,
not a question of if.

they break my heart, those kids,
the ones whose lives
are destined to be short stories,
not novels,
writ small,
not large,
a line in the crime section
of the washington post,
a note on the yellow pads
of the members of our
(not very) grand jury.

p.e. ortman