FIVE SINGING ROCKS

The prosecution’s opening statement wasn’t long.
An officer stuck one finger into Mickey’s pocket
and five rocks of cocaine popped out and sang a song.
The rocks in Mickey’s pocket were aching to sing.
They popped out like toast right in front of police.”

The defense attorney was brief, but made his point.
“Mickey put someone else’s pants on by mistake.
When out of his pocket popped five singing rocks,
why he was just as surprised as those shocked cops.”

The officer testified the singing rocks of cocaine
were in harmony as if they’d been singing all day.
But admitted since the pants fit Mickey, he didn’t ask,
whose pants they were or where they were purchased.
Mickey told the jury in the first place,
it was because the pants fit he’d made the mistake.
But Mickey didn’t tell the jury where he’d been
when he’d put the pants on, or whose pants he’d worn.

Then into the courtroom walked Mrs. Brown,
owner of the house from which Mickey ran.
She testified, “Those pants don’t belong to Mickey.
They belong to my husband who came home early.
Mickey got scared and dressed in a hurry.
He grabbed my husband’s pants in a flurry,
jumped out the window and over the sill,
last I saw he was heading for the hill.

Mrs. Brown’s husband was called for rebuttal.
He told the jury he knew he was in trouble,
but those pants with the singing rocks are not mine.
Mickey and my wife are out to get my behind.

The defense argued those rocks were in deep slumber
until they were awakened by the officer’s finger.
The prosecution argued the rocks were ready to croon,
wide awake in the pocket and humming their tune.

The jury listened to the rocks sing their song
then retired to deliberate whether Mickey was wrong.
The jury foreman chuckled after Mickey’s conviction,
because the alibi put forth was a hurried fornication.
Next time Mickey should get an innocent excuse,
maybe the next jury will cut him loose.”

The judge didn’t like the song the rocks sang in her court,
she sentenced Mickey to one year per rock; but,
from the bench about rocks and pants gave free advice,
“If you hear rocks in your pocket run for your life.”

Charles N. Guthrie, is an author who lives and writes in Southern California.