what was it like
to hold a golden scepter
in your hand,
and ride your curly tailed demons,
Maurice?

was it fun?
did your gut bob with laughter
as the wind combed through
your hair?

mine did. mine does.
me and my demons dance
sometimes at night,
making just enough rumpus

to rouse Mom and Dad
from their sleep.

they don’t see the demons,
but I do, Maurice. you taught
me how. you taught me
how to be king
of all the mean nasty
things under my bed.

under my bed, there is a book
with a drawing of you on it. I read it
to my demons sometimes. I read it
to remind them that I’m king.