The Man with the Shoes
this public servant
dreary, spending time in a cheap suit
stranded in a crowd of heartless
over-simplified and stripped-down
bare light hanging, cracked plaster falls
on baseboards showing
his wear
his wares
remaining silent to allow them to choose
subtley interjecting prophetic hints
on shoes
and this shuddering stomach
occasionally covered up with bland sodas
churns at the sight of the new dark men
who command with their eyes
nothing to lose
he has nothing to lose
down
the flash of silver motion
up and pointing at
him on the ground, all living stomach now
and suddenly apologetic
for wrongs he can't but help commit
hundreds of years off he smacked them
and they cannot help it either to flaunt their new power
as the cold death slithers
cocking back reaching
behind him goes off in the rush for the man with the shoes
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