Leader of the team
rich as Croesus with gold bullion
and a silly red plastic nose
he reigns at the top of the empire
one thousand feet above his childhood
and he dreams.
 
Monuments could be built
to the ties of silk and platinum time pieces
as statues sit poised for another merger
spying a copious breakfast made for kids
he smiles in his wealthy souls alone
in a polka dot ensemble.
 
A shock to the system late again
scraggy hairs throw rays of light at an audience
somewhere hovering between youth and death
he had to dance all night in his living room
as he continued to sing an awkward tune in the bath
much too young yet to play with the board.
 
Leaning back in the presidential leather
teasing the graying beard which never really grew
he is again blinded by the shine of intimidating portfolios
wondering what migraine those executioners
have in mind for his playful little soul
he might cry, instead he chooses to smile.
 
Trickster with castles in Europe, he stares at the water
in a carafe he wishes would explode and ruin
all those reports. He hopes his chair would break
so he would fall back in a loud commotion
but then he knows, only he would rejoice
so to sleep again he goes in the din of the boardroom.