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The Wisdom of the Shoe
the dark--frantic in town
is gradual out over the avenues
where old vans busy themselves and throw hubcaps
and boys collect license plates
could an image kill you if anything could?
an hour with a woman in a bedroom
sending her to the kitchen
to the boys' room to count their breaths
welcome to the circus of all possibilities
somewhere ridiculous
two ridiculous people are in the shower
laughing voices are heard from behind a tree
an egg has fallen into a child's shoe
the shoe bronzed--the bronze melted
munitions made
a barrel has a core of plastic explosive
throw anything into the barrel until full--get away
or wait in the dark and watch while I pray
to the god of shopping lists
to the god of the recliner
of the porcelain collie
the iron coachman holding a lamp
a nurse in a cap with impeccable velvet
hurrying room-to-room
with a kind word--a sharp word--an enema
she becomes a qualified angel of logic
descending to the pit
eating from a bowl
* * *
I'd see you reading in the library
you never lost your place
you had lousy teeth and a striped hat
wore a one-piece-thing with a snap
we only fucked together the one time
but I remember every part of you
sexual force enables the cock to rise
it is the energy to sell magazines
energy to drive along the days
but clarity drives the hours
is is possible to make anything so clear
everyone can understand it?
or is this the dream of a dead man?
to impregnate everyone
with a superb wisdom
the wisdom of the shoe
Copyright 2001, Lee Ballentine. All rights reserved.