A Sinking Stone

Roger Stone’s a nobody; I hardly even know him.
Even though we’ve been acquainted almost forty years.
I love him like a brother… if that bro’s a stone-cold loser.
When he is imprisoned, I will not shed any tears.

He’s got some ink of Nixon tattooed right on his trapezius.
They both were known as tricksters – Stone’s a dirty one, at that.
Whatever he is up to, motivation’s always devious.
He’ll says never flip and turn against me; be a rat.

But now he’s pissed a judge off, with her picture next to crosshairs.
He said that he was sorry; his excuse here: “Just an error.”
She hauled him into court, reminding him that she’s the boss there.
His action – “indefensible”  – was meant to cause her terror.

I’ve picked on judges, too – but I just slander them with nicknames;
Sticks and stones, etcetera, but names will never hurt you.
I claim there’s no connection between me and Roger’s sick games:
This WikiLeaks shmegegge was most certainly his purview.

The judge said she’ll make sure his trial won’t turn into a circus,
And so she ordered, manifestly: “Roger, shut your trap.
I’m setting clearer boundaries so you cannot usurp this;
I’ll have you jailed right on the spot if there is one more mishap.”

Roger claims he’s broke and finds his situation stressful.
Much of what he said while on the stand sounded oblique, and
I’m now afraid he’ll turn on me, since jail he won’t find restful.
He’s something of a dandy; likely won’t last past the weekend.

I am not a betting man, but if I had to wager –
Since he’s old, impoverished (already had to sell stock) –
He will decide to squeal – and soon. His revelations: major.
He can tell me that he’s sorry once I’m moved into his cellblock.