The King by mark tulin @crowonthewire.com
Crows kiss my webbed feet and give offerings
The hawk soars overhead in military salute
I feast on leftover burritos and pies with cream filling
I poop on barbecue pits and shoes left out to dry
I own a harem of dark feathered ladies with large booties.
Humans fear me, children run and hide
I am the King, the King is who am I.