Boot Theory

colporteur:

by Richard Siken

A man walks into a bar and says:
Take my wife—please.
So you do.
You take her out into the rain and you fall in love with her
and she leaves you and you’re desolate.
You’re on your back in your undershirt, a broken man
on an ugly bedspread, staring at the water stains
on the ceiling.
And you can hear the man in the apartment above you
taking off his shoes.
You hear the first boot hit the floor and you’re looking up,
you’re waiting
because you thought it would follow, you thought there would be
some logic, perhaps, something to pull it all together
but here we are in the weeds again,
here we are
in the bowels of the thing: your world doesn’t make sense.
And then the second boot falls.
And then a third, a fourth, a fifth.

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   by richard siken A man walks into a bar and says: Take my wife—please. So you do. You take her out into the rain and you...

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   A man walks into a bar and says: Take my wife—please. So you do. You take her out into the rain and you fall in love...

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