All around, the smoke ribboned from ashtrays
and mushroomed on the stained ceiling.
There, in the corner, Irving Kanarek glared
like a father watching his children,
but, as children do, they ignored him.
F. Lee Bailey leaned on the far end of the bar,
he was equally ignored,
as barristers sought their pecking order
in a gaggle of egos.
Over the bar a sign hung - "The Bench",
where ironically, the bartender, in jest,
would be asked to "judge" the winner of some petty spat.
Conversation was tediously interrupted as night progressed,
"Objection your honor, he's badgering the witness!"
"Objection sustained" would ring out from behind the bar,
but amidst all the legalese a pall hung
draping down the walls like the smoke.
They must laugh for sanity, because ...
the killer set free who would kill again
becomes the dragon in the room
that will follow them home.