Royalty by Joseph Hargraves

The quacking bum has found a partner
in the obese woman who’s taken off her
Mercedes Benz T-shirt. They’re kissing
smack in the center of the fountain.
The sun reflects the pool:
for a moment- they are beautiful.
The lunch-break secretaries in sneakers
are frightened by the lovers’ exalted state,
and return to high-rise cubicles.
But the couple in the fountain
are so blessed that even prick cop
Sanchez doesn't write them tickets.
Instead he's lighting a cigarette
for a blonde face-lift in 90 degree
heat and leather pants.
A naked girl with filthy feet
is laughing. Another little girl
kisses her on her left nipple
and strokes Sappho's hair.
A tattooed drunk yells to the crowd:
"My wife is royalty!"
He is embracing a grey haired
woman who is, despite the odds,
statuesque and regal. They
know they are Royalty.
Holding hands, they laugh
and stagger to an ivy bower.
After a luxurious fuck,
they fall asleep, oblivious
to us anti-royalists.