thin-king

again I sit
you have not yet returned grandmother’s copy
of the ancient sea scroll
seen brighter days my friend
none so bright as the passed two nights
full moon pulls its cloud blanket up
over her naked figure
I am trying to find the time
to scratch some hieroglyphics on the walls
of the battleship
haven’t even laid eyes on the captain yet
what right do I have
when are you going to push the river
into my ear once again
feeling so empty since the last time
some two weeks ago
dreamed I killed the miser again last night
had this dream so many times
he still walks the cobblestone pathways
with Judas Iscariot and Benedict Arnold
the three stooges never treated each other so awful
the miser having a different face for each day of the year

been meaning to ask you my friend
will you join me in my crusade against the king
I want to crown myself the thin—king again
I am finally ready and stable enough
to regain the spot once thrown from
the reign is over
gently plant my feet on this newly seeded lawn
the reverend maynard calls me at once
and this means I must end this letter
abruptly and for this I am truly sorry. . .