When I got back home I realised I'd been had.
It wasn't so much that my shoes were missing,
and my socks, and the hat that I'd saved up three months to buy,
and my trousers, and even my underwear
-- in fact the only thing that had been left me
was the proverbial shirt on my back --
it wasn't so much that they had a sense of irony
in leaving me the shirt on my back,
nor the fact that that can only have indicated that
they had a profound sense of humor,
and were probably educated, had read their Shakespeare,
and not just MacBeth and Othello,
but the hard ones, like The Taming Of The Shrew,
and King John and Corolianus,
no, it wasn' that.
I'd been had. And thoroughly.
They had removed my head, which was awkward,
preventing me from seeing and even breathing,
they'd also, because of the abovementioned sense of humor,
removed just one of my legs, just one,
so that the fact that they had taken both of my shoes
was half good and half bad,
in fact, I remember some of them hinting that I was a bit rude,
not to have thanked them
for having taken one of my shoes,
since having two while only having one leg
would have been superfluous.