Jury Summons

For most of my adulthood, I’ve resided in D.C.
If you’ve lived there, you’ll likely guess one thing it’s meant to me:
I’ve gotten jury summonses a lot throughout the years.
They have some trouble filling up the spaces, it appears.
At times I could bow out of it, as when I went to college,
But still the letters came; the system didn’t keep that knowledge.
The federal and district courts both summoned me at once.
They really should coordinate to not look like a dunce.
The days I did show up for it, I didn’t really mind.
I got to go downtown and leave my office space behind.
They’d show us all a movie while we waited to be called.
(That said, a book or puzzles often had me more enthralled.)
I could be let out early and just walk to an exhibit
At many a museum or pay something else a visit.
That said, for all the times I went, I never had to serve.
I almost wish I had, but it might well get on my nerves.
The closest that I ever came, it happens, was the last.
A judge dismissed me based on how I answered what he asked.
Perhaps the fact my father was a lawyer ruled me out,
But he’s been summoned often too; that theory is in doubt.
Well, since I’ve moved to Maryland, no summonses have come.
I’ve heard that that experience has been the same for some.
I can’t say that I miss it, but I found it rather keen
When Juror #666 was given Seat 13.