Before Charlie Chaplin did it
Uncle History cooked his shoe
He called it “old faithful”
He’d tramped the arctic
The jungles—even
The squares of London
With his agreeable boot
He thought of how
He might write
A memoir called
“The Agreeable Boot”
Meanwhile—alas
His teeth weren’t up to it
No matter how long
He boiled
And what with
The tannic acids
Boot remained boot
Teeth fell out
“Nobody loves you
When your teeth fall out”
He sings
To his aged cat
Then he grasps it:
His shoe carries
Not the world
He thinks is real
But the world itself
Planet of the Blind 