Prostitute

Prostitute!

Laughter lashed at me;

the fire seemed fueled by the derisive crack-up

of twelve year olds.

Right,

declared the khaki-clad man,

campfire court!

Cicadas screamed from the flickering trees.

There’s been a murder!

The accused is thirst.

He held up an empty glass.

We’ll need a judge.

Timothy,

you kept your cool out there today.

You be the judge!

Embers weaved up fixing into stars.

Who else works in a court?

Hands fired up, mine too,

his eyes moved beyond me;

fire danced up his cheeks.

Sammy?

A defendant?

Excellent!

You be that!

Stand to the left of Timothy.

I shuffled from a kneel to a sit.

We’ll need one more.

I brushed dry leaves off my etched knees

and began to rake my mind.

This one argues against the defendant...

No hands.

He’ll say it WAS thirst that killed our traveler...

anyone?

No?

Ok, it starts with a P...

Pa, pa, pros…

I punched a hole in the night sky.

Yes? 
It’s Roy, right?
And you’re going to be the…