three-legged women are often asked
about the beauty of their toes
and they reply that it comes from within
the hammer nailed into the hose.
simpler creatures, with halves for arms,
curse their single-minded friends
and scream for the shade-shaded shades to scram,
leaving the string full of violent pearls.
as i walk out on walks as i,
cypriots stare at my blue net,
but if i point at them my them,
they will be glad to paint their teeth.
all i entomb with my servant and rug
lies in the eye that refuses to see
itself in the woman's fourth leg, still pushing
the remote control's most missing button.

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