I’m getting very old. If I were a mutt
in dog years I’d be seven, not stray so far.
I am large. Tarpon my age are often large
but they are inescapably fish. A porpoise
my age was the King of New Guinea in 1343.
Perhaps I am the king of my dogs, cats, horses
but I have dropped any notion of explaining
to them why I read so much. To be mysterious
is a prerogative of kingship.
I discovered lately that my subjects do not live a life,
but are life itself. They do not recognize the pain
of the schizophrenia of kingship.
To them I am pretty much a fellow creature.