Chamleon

My dirty feet make prints on the floor.
They make a path of where I have been.
I have been nowhere.
Follow it and you might find nowhere
Or you will find somewhere.

I don’t mean to leave my trace
All over the floor
I would leave it all over the walls.
But I was never taught to walk on walls.

I’m sorry my feet are dirty
I clean them with soap
You don’t believe me
But I swear.
I guess I’m too dirty on the inside
To stay clean on the outside

Good thing my footprints don’t sell me out
Like my fingerprints do
Or you could catch me
And parade my dirty feet
To all your clean friends.
I would smile, though,
As they gawk at the lines of dirt.

I’m not ashamed, no.
The dirt is my skin now.