This prince was very nervous,
drank his own life at speed
to see it dry,
a methylated flame burnt in his eyes,
some savage energy that was ready
to erupt, singe his pale skin.

The courtiers
were out in the streets,
groomed in the latest image,
pink shirts, black leather belts,
limbs made of steak,
fried eggs and beer.

When the Town Hall clock
struck twelve, the daughter
of the Lord Chamberlain went past
smiling discreetly at her image
in shop windows.