Foot, Tongue, Boot

Twenty-six

bones, thirty-

three joints,

one hundred

muscles

and tendons,

ligaments,

tongues

of thousands

of miles;

who could forget

that dish

of hard candy,

ten lollipops

to worship—red,

green, peachy

as the day

God made them.

What foot lives

without a tongue

to soothe it? 

The boot heats up
the confusion

my mind is—

I raise to my nose,
sniff you out
when elsewhere

rules the hour,

has you all

to itself, like

a bloodhound

on a leash,

drooling

for the fugitive's
return to the scene
of the crime.