The buffoon covered him self in shit,
smiling through it.
They laughed at him and pointed.
He smeared and capered, teetered and tottered.
Wide rosy cheeked smile.
A single toothed mouth.
Tears of laughter slide down his cheeks.
 
Under his royal arse a pile of newspapers-plastics-cans-cartons, bottles.
Raw sock-less feet stuffed into holy’ stiff thin leather boots, fat frozen toes . . . Pinky toe goes home!
A protruding shoe nail jams into a calloused heel,
pain enough to remind him that he is a fool. . . or a King?
 
Tug-tugging on his filthy sleeves or a torn bathrobe are scores of street “urchins:” Clingy, sticky, cross-eyed, filthy, stuttering, stinking, curious and rude.
ALL seek his blessing . . .
That LOOK from his eyes.
That unconditional love wisdom-compassion-warmth,
POWER!!
 
He beams deez’ doses into their eyes
Burning into them his “give-a-fuck . . .
Watches them visibly inflate.
Chests puff, eyes glaze proud:
Hear Ye !  Hear Ye !
A-l-l Rise!!
Limping and gimping, babbling and drooling , , , scratching crotches and sniffing fingers. . .
HA!!—“Such filthy little habits.”
 
One scrawny urban vampire stands by an abandoned building, filthy trousers droop, pale ass cheeks squeeze a golden arc of piss, steaming down to the frozen ground. . .
Splashing the tops of his boots,
these boots.
Our boots. . .