The Royal pardon said sorry for not forgiving me at all.
Famous people in their prime with obituaries sold in purgatory’s mall.
Meanwhile I meantime, as is habitual.
Somewhere someone is really living and about to die in a dawn dual.
Stopping to pull the rug from under my feet
The red-carpet envoy skips, making excuses to everyone I greet.
Marooned, I recycle bottles like nobody’s business
and send small deals in non-naval dress.