The Noble Pharaoh of the Parking Lot on San Leandro St

All that the light touches, yes, but I 

am king of the shadows too, the diplomat

of darkness, underneath the heat of machine

exhaust. King of dirt and feral cats,



am I! Lord of Lands, the Concrete King!

My yellow eyes and sneering frown observe,

and watch for those who fail to pay their rent

of adoration, the love that I deserve.



This Parking Lot, my weedy realm with its dunes

of broken glass, I guard from atop my throne–

I call it Altima, of silver-gray.

I pose like a noble tomb of marble stone,



for I am Ozymandias! And I

shall not remove, for machine nor two-leg man.

… But should I choose to scamper from my seat

to look out from my kingly Garbage Can,



and watch you wretches steer my throne away–

just know: I allowed this illegality

to pass. And vengeance cometh hot and stinky:

my pungent spray – a just formality.