Emporer of the Alley

Emperor of the Alley
Day by day, upon his throne,
a stool that once graced the bar
in Eddie's Pool Emporium,
the Emperor of the Alley sits, holding court.
Ass pinched by cold-stiffened plastic,
he overlooks his garden kingdom and rules.
As far as the eye can see is the detritus
of humankind, carelessly strewn. . .
Each grit of dirt is the Emperor's kingdom.
Each useless, filthy piece of splendor
belongs to the man who sits in power there.
His rule is benign, caring and complicated.
One August some wino stole the Emperor's throne.
Two nights later it had been returned,
now stained with the AB negative of some hapless thief.
The loyal subjects took care of their royalty.
If a man needed a lay-down, he just went to
the Emperor, who beneficently waves his arms
over yards of concrete steeped in stench -
providing refuge for the weary traveler.
Beneath the tattoos and needle tracked skin
of the Emperor of the Alley, crawls the deliberate
cancer that has the Emperor keeping an eye out
for his successor to the throne.