Sometimes you’re out and about
and you see a shoe
–a single shoe, just lying there
and you gotta wonder. . .
how do you lose one shoe?
(is it a leftie or a rightie?)
Is the world full of Cinderellas running late?
In the case of the errant flip-flop on beach trails
it’s a Sanderella souvenir
(or Sunderella)
a one-off
mermaid-with-shore-leave’s
shoe
lost as she rushed to return to the briny depths before 12 bells
–sun-bleached beach attire strewn behind her–
–dune buggy just a shell of its time-sensitive chassis—
but what about the Converse sneaker?
(not those laced & paired over hi-voltage wires above)
but the singleton
. . .
what’s the story there?
Is that a Shirts and Skin-derella story?
a ballplayer just dying for a pick-up game?
who shoots, scores, unlaces, and bolts before the buzzer?
. . .
seems unlikely.
. . .
but then, losing one shoe seems something hard to miss, too.
Then there’s the work boot you sometimes see,
Clearly a “Done-derella” story
as in:
that clock couldn’t chime 5 quick enough
a classic “take-your-job-and-your-mandatory-attire”
and hit the bricks tale
–shredded blue collar cut from
the neck
it squeezed
surely somewhere in the vicinity—
I’m just sayin’. . .
you never see a glass stiletto just
lying there as you’re toolin’ around town
–not unless you live in Vegas.
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