The first time I ate lunch in bed,
I thought I was classy,
But the second time came ‘round and
I thought it was trashy.
Knifing through that royal steak on
A lush, silver platter,
Turned my bedroom to a throne room,
Filled with courtroom chatter.
There were jesters, and dancers, and
A bounty of a feast,
But my eyes were most bound to the
Fine clothing from the East.
That evening we swirled in our
Expensive silk treasures,
But on the morrow I found there
Was poison in pleasures.
Come morn I had been invaded
By the rank smell of sweat
And the realization that
I was deeply in debt.
When they finally tossed me lunch
It was this green-grey dish.
Served on a soggy paper plate,
With the stench of old fish.
And I understood that a king
Was no more of a man
Than a child in bed screaming,
“Mom, bring me my lunch can!”
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