The problem of shoes demonstrates how the most barbaric things pass as acceptable through the force of habit. —Magritte

Where did you think you were going with that gun?
Indebted and intended to wake you up, les amantes, I’ll
      pull your trigger first when you least expect
      it, against the missing days, wearing my hat

and black umbrella, my somnambulism the furniture now
shares with me in the house, if they can claim kinship
      to me as you have done, smoking
      yourself down to size.

I’d lick your boots, your breastplate clean, shine your clocks
to come candid: my door is slightly ajar: come inside my
      outside, seen by common sense like a collection
      of missing buttons and body parts