Red Shoes

Red Shoes


Flaming red tennis Shoes
With tripping shoelaces
And a tongue that sticks out too far
Passes an elderly gentleman you see everyday
The one that carries a pole with rags wrapped around
The top, his flag, that old man, the relic of the past.
Cast off like a pair of shoes.

A man picked up a pair of red sneakers, with yellow stripes:
Shiny like a racecar.
“Slick,” he told his twentysomething girlfriend—
Assistant.
“Nice,” she agreed.
Purred.
The woman pecked him on the lips before he plopped down in his silver
Double XX chromosome magnet.

“Shoes, shoes. Where are my shoes?”
“You can run after work.”
“I have plans after work.”
The girl finds the red shoes and slides them on her feet.
The roommate watched the other girl jog out the door.
She runs
Past the stop sign
The little yellow house with the little red doghouse
That yapping dog
The meowing cats
See the girl run
Run, run, run
Past the rats
Past the roaches
She runs too fast, gone too far.
Concrete, steel, and stench of urine
Tell her time to go back

The red shoes retire in the laundry bin.
She slides in a red teddy, opens two bottles of beer
Waits for the call that will inevitably come.