On A Forthcoming Meeting with Mr. …..

 

You I’m told,

smoke $500 cigars, only a puff or two

have heads of states you don’t know, call you.

……

You I’m told,

have kissed the Pope’s ring just a little too long

him returning a wink, strong acknowledging strong.

……

You I’m told,

own a stable full of race horses, all mares

and even ride some there, only in your underwear.

……

You I’m told,

quote Plato and even thought of buying your own republic

but didn’t because an enemy said he loved it.

……

You I’m told,

have your own heart surgeon and piss loudly

in the middle of toilet bowls, like emperors of old.

……

You I’m told,

have a tie for every day of the year and own Nero like,

the mineral rights for the dark side of the moon.

……

You I’m told,

know how many angels can dance on the head of a pin

even calculating what dance they’re stepping in.

……

You I’m told,

don’t even have a last name, like God or Donald (the duck)

and have women lined up who you think, only want to fuck.

……

I’ve been told all this (and much, much more)

so, I can only imagine how hard it must be, to be you

a mere fabrication, and a second hand one too.

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