pet shop for surrealists


look at the ear
                sitting on its perch

it doesn’t sing
                but listens beautifully

look at the fingers, swimming in little fists

look at the gun, hiding in the pocket of that rock

don’t tease the hats
                                they are bad-tempered

but the teapot is house-trained
                                and the chairs are good with children

look at the the beard, sulking in its cage
it’s been fighting with the telephone again

don’t be afraid of the piano - it’s been tamed
no longer plays Beethoven
                                only nursery rhymes and jingles

the clocks never sleep, the cutlery is restless

and the slippers are showing off

watch them dance a pas de chat
       
                in the store window





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