At the end of November, the legal and arts community lost a champion of both when Hon. Ralph Smith passed away.
Here at Arizona Attorney Magazine, we knew him mainly as the judge who won—twice—in our annual Creative Arts Competition. Not only that, he did so in two categories.
His April 2005 winner was in Nonfiction. His essay titled “In Praise of City Court” told us a lot about the author: humorous, generous and courteous. You can read that story here.
Then, in May 2010, he wowed us again by taking top honors in our Poetry category. You can read his entries here.
But, in case you don’t click, here are two of his pieces. Rest in peace, Judge.
The Pas De Deux Café
I am at the Pas de Deux Café, the Green House,
In time for the matinee ballet.
Shelly, the prima ballerina,
slim and blonde, makes her entrance,
(to my silent but appreciative applause),
Through the kitchen’s swinging doors,
To the cacophonous music of forks on plates.
She threads her way with dips and pirouettes
Executed with grace and authority,
around the tables and the chairs,
past the other ballerinas, and does a pas de deux
with Sandra, who approaches from the outside patio.
Shelly takes my order,
bending down with a friendly smile,
then pirouettes once more,
and disappears backstage.
The cacophony rises to a crescendo,
and the prima ballerina again emerges,
with tray held on high, as she dips and whirls,
and deftly opens the glass door to the patio
with a provocative bump of her firm derriere,
never missing a beat of the music playing in my head.
Dance, ballerina, dance!
It was the performance of my day.
Torta En Toluca
Pretty as she was,
It was not Carlota that I remember so clearly,
On that sunny Mexican morning
On the plaza in Toluca, with the smell
Of charcoal in the air, grilling the chorizo, on market day
And the Indians sitting by their shaded lean-tos,
With the fruits and vegetables and that
Wonderful pottery with the black and yellow designs
Spread out around them.
No—It was the sandwich that she fixed
From a can of tuna she had brought along,
And mayo, and avocado, from those small
Purple aguacates that she got there in the market,
That taste so good when
Spread on a bolillo or telera, the buns
She bought for ten centavos from
The old lady with the basketful, and
Prepared while we sat on the hard bench
In the plaza, happy, laughing at each other
And devouring the impromptu tortas which were
Delicious, and matched our mood.
Yes, she was pretty, and perhaps it was her
Laugh, her smile, her tousled hair that overcame
The beauty of her being, the totality,
Which are like the things we cannot see
While looking into the sun.
But the sandwich I remember, and the sunny day.
And our happiness and laughter, all delicious.
Herodatus was right—you can never step into the same river
Twice.
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