(In which our hero returns, only to befoul the fair interwebs with vengefully vain verse.)
ODE TO A SHOE
O fair foot clothing,
Laced and intertwined through happy holes,
That no aglet could bear to avoid.
The very sole is the very soul of my every step,
Joyously jostling o'er the grey asphalt or the rich soil.
Of canvas or leather, encasing the lower extremities,
The tarsals could ne'er wish
For a warmer or safer coat than this.
Atop a heel, always healing my sorry need
For greater stature.
O fair foot clothing,
How could I ask for more?
My feet beseech thee--
May they embrace thy glorious tongue,
Forsake them knot.
(Please direct all complaints to your friendly Poetry Police, or to a gullible publisher.)
