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by Richard Thomas

my shoe frowns upon this,
a scrawny loaf of bread.
I shall know the slippery hand of a heavy book;
its shallow doom and a crust chew me with knives
sharpen a window and look
you're dead
what say me to a banana

my shoe frowns upon this
a scrawny loaf of bread

a step on the face of man
a stab through the elbow of time
a kick to the nose of thought
fear not, old shoe, this sentence is not