Ronnie, Jr.

profit-1-jean-michel-basquiat-1982

[Profit I, Jean Paul Basquiat, 1982]

Ronnie, Jr

He was spoiled from childhood by the future,

which he mastered early

and without great difficulty.

Everything came easily to him.

Ronnie, as a child, was even a success.

Didn’t he get his every whim?

Most days he’d ride his tricycle around the rim

of the estate driveway. Trailing his cloud of dark-suited angels;

he was fearless.

Everyone came easily to him.

Even the wondering boys who gathered outside the gate to peer in.

Pedaling over to them, Ronnie watched their eyes grow and their

faces press.

Didn’t he get his every whim?

He liked making them do that. One boy stuck in a limb

through the massive gate (one Secret Serviceman flinched) offering

a dollar for something of his dress.

Ronnie took the crumpled bill, smelled it, scrunched the rim

of his nose and eyes, shoved it back. It stank. He couldn’t  care less.

Didn’t he get his every whim?

He pedaled away from the shaken boys. Only a Reagan could wear

the emblem, “RR”, Father had said a great man goes peerless.

Everything came easily to him.

Didn’t he get his every whim?

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