& There he was,
everybody's fool
in mid April.

Half-way to May.
Caught in a Day-dream.
Dreaming of the porch
his baby basket
should have been dumped on.

Now,
livin' a life of
love-lost lustful lies.

The dark prince,
is just another servant.
Until the day
his father dies
and the horned/thorn-ed crown
is handed down.

To the next heir
standing in
the 69 blood line.

It's a classic!
An All-American.
Trust fund-****-story.

Staring, a little black cloud.
That spent more time,

sulking
over
sitting

up on the family's thrown.

So he sulked up
until he grew up.

For
he was too foolish,
& tiny
to sit-in or fit-it.

At first, of course.