Dick is a poet, attorney, and political activist living in Vista, California.
except the midnight phone calls. "We're having a meet,
we need our lawyer. Get your sleazy ass down here."
I don’t care he calls me names, the money is good,
I got bills, and I think he likes me.
But I hate the threats. Most lawyers don’t worry
about their kneecaps, or walking out
to get the morning paper on the driveway.
I get it - don’t fuck up! You don’t have to remind me.
And the late night phone calls.
I go to sleep between nine and ten
so getting out of bed and driving down
to the Bada Bing at 1 a.m. is no fun,
even when dancers flash titties
as their lawyer walks by, half-asleep
on the way to the office.
I keep the hookers out of jail.
I know their real names.
They aren't all hookers of course -
students, artists, aspiring actresses,
So the boys talk some business
and I try not to listen unless they need advice
about something I don't want to know.
It's all hypothetical, of course, stuff
you’d never really do, right?
But if nobody believes that hypothetical shit -
their lawyer was present, Consigliere I guess
they think they can just tell the cops
"my lawyer was present" and that
will put things to rest.