Martinez, California

“Discover the Charm”

The quiet streets of Martinezin morning before 8 a.m. –

the quaint café is out of businessbut Starbucks is fullof attorneys and cops,a baker’s dozen of eachofficer of the law orderingcoffee drinks and pastries so sweetthey should be illegal.

I’m part of a system that oppresses,I know. I know it better than everin the little town of Martinezheading to court at daybreakpast Whisky Lane’s doorswung wide to the dim lit counter,where the McDonald’s, too, is open,catering to hobos and obese moms,

and the Sheriff at the gateof the marble courthouselets lawyerspass around the metal detectorwith the flash of a Bar cardand matching suit and tie,though we could be armedto the gulletwith justice.

But we’re not. It’s just aCase Management Conferencein a routine toxic tort class action.

I bill my time at $350 an hour and thenstroll down Main Streetpast five family law offices,two criminal defense firms,and the new MMA gym,poke around in an antique storesqueezed between two bail bondswhich outnumber all business 3 to 1.

I buy some Gold Rush relics for a steal:pick, shovel, pan,a lump of fool’s gold.