I’m not a poet. Don’t worry; I won’t do this to you that often. Just a few Saturday-night thoughts on a Sunday.
——
Walt Disney’s Legacy
Prince Charming isn’t coming.
He got lost trying to find the bus schedule and landed in a strip joint in Newark.
He saw something shiny in a store window and what’s twenty bucks, anyway?
Prince Charming isn’t coming.
He had to tie his shoelaces and got distracted by a crack in the sidewalk.
He’s rescuing a kitten planted in a tree by the Wicked Witch of the West.
Prince Charming isn’t coming.
He tried to see how many Oreos he could fit in his mouth and then he needed a Heimlich.
He’s in the back row at the multiplex, eating red vines and considering Botox.
Prince Charming isn’t coming.
He’s doing the nasty with Goldilocks but thinking about Sleeping Beauty.
He’s trading your phone number for magic beans and a player to be named later.
Prince Charming isn’t coming.
He’s playing foosball with his old college friends for beers and bragging rights.
He’s stuck in traffic and searching the net for that girl he knew in Memphis.
Prince Charming isn’t coming.
Laurie Boris 
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