The royalty are out in force,
Pontificating like pontiffs
To the pigeons in the trees
And to anyone who doesn’t look away.
They have no parking space to tend
But they’ll take the dimes and quarters
Off your hands. They do not follow orders
Like those hilltop mansion owners
For a view of this last wilderness of water.
And they don’t have to share their ice cream cones
With children or with dogs. They are free
To harangue their way to fame
Like that local hero on the statue,
Who showed everyone that they were wrong
With the force of his incorrigible hair.
The families at the crest of the beautiful
Translucence, the ocean’s endless rhythm of grace,
Who pick at each other like seagulls stab entrails
Look at the way they stagger diagonally
Or sleep without shame on the sidewalk
And pretend to be thankful, for the family meal,
The shared sun, the seat by the sea,
But there’s a hidden envy
Of those beyond judgment,
Who lord over the sand with their
Red robes and Mardi Gras jewelry
As they teeter on the edge of invisibility,
Like any other king or queen at the inconvenient secret,
That these grounds we walk on are not really God’s
But their own.
