Unseasoned Shoes
What was he thinking when he dropped
by shoelaces his unseasoned shoes?
Did they splash or plip-plop land on lake?
Did they sink like a pirate’s treasure or
was this considered treasonous, by land folk?
Oh, definitely would be, if they’d known -
instead they scour two floors, looking for cute
to put on two feet, to go to church.
What was he thinking when he dropped
by shoelaces his unseasoned shoes?
Did they drift off together or swim apart,
their soles wet; perhaps spotted by a child
who says, “Look!” as if they were two ships
passing in the night. Were the laces, like oars.
Those laces of no use, unless someone tugged
them out of their abandonment, sunned them,
brushed and released their tongues, slipped
them on to feet and found they fit just right.
But the other mom, who paid cash, is still
scratching her head, looking high and low,
never thinking to question her son, though she
has him looking, but he’s playing instead, knowing
the looking is a dead end. Perhaps, he feels ashamed
for her good money and his betrayal and looks for them
where he left them, where the wind touches his cheek
and tussles his hair, just like mom; where the waters
kiss the shore like mom kisses his boo-boo knees.
He thinks his shoes went under and won’t reveal the secret
for many years. He will tell his family, it is the same lake
of fate, where he threw the little people of Fisher-Price.
The boy abandoned unimportant things of life; thankfully
he came through in so many other ways, so he’s forgiven.
Copyright ©
Kim Rodrigues
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