Traffic Court

I make sure to sit on the left when I enter the courtroom. Twenty minutes on the pew-like benches, then my name is called. I move to the right side of the courtroom, as instructed. The judge sits high in front of the large train on the city seal. I stutter a little when I ask for defensive driving. I am sent to sit to sit back on the benches to the left, where I stare at chalkboard. Someone has drawn roads and arrows, and taped matchbox cars to the green surface. The clock on the wood paneled walls is missing the two and the six. It has no hands.