I never learn
to keep my mouth
Your shoes certainly
make an interesting
sound, I tell the
guy who keeps
passing by
to answer the phone
in the computer books.
It’s almost musical.
It’s a prothesis, he
says, & I need a
new one.
I settle into my
body & decide
not to panic,
but I am hoping
like hell it is
some sort of insert
into the shoe,
a simple Dr. Scholl’s
sort of thing
& not the foot
He is casual
about it in any
event & I figue
whatever it is,
he’s used to
A couple of weeks
later, in a heat wave
I see him again
wearing shorts.
The prothesis
extends at least
to the kneww,
I cannot bring
myself to look
beyond that.
And as he
walks away
I hear its
familiiar squeak,
kathink, hathink
kathink it sings
its efficent song.