The poet thought: ah, I have enough trash!
The whores, the theater, and the moon in the city,
The dress-shirts, the streets, and smells,
The nights and the coaches and the windows,
The laughter, the street-lights and murders -
I'm really fed up now with all the crap,
Damn it!
Whatever will be will be - it's all the same to me:
The patent leather shoe Hurts me. And I take it off -
People might turn around, surprised.
Only it's a shame about my silk socks...
The Patent-leather Shoe
Alfred Lichtenstein
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Poem topics: city, laughter, moon, people, street, shame, thought, poet, dress, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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