The palace owners
pay a lot of tax
— enough to make you choke.
So they sleep out on the stones
and rent their realm to other folk.

I met them at a party
They were eating cake in jeans,
moaning all about
their dear kibosh-ed dreams

“I could have been a plumber”
“I’d be better solving crime”
But instead they own that palace
. . . why can’t it have been mine ?