A Day in These

wake up
wear shoes
day time
no blues

says who?

It’s Monday
I am fine, not really
he’s a bastard
that we’ve not yet mastered

Coffee at the office
cigarette in hand
cold shoulder brushes
it’s winter, it rushes

I wore my shoes
I love them so, they made it from Paris
and moved me, knowing I’m careless

I sat on the damp benches
my butt got cold, I don’t care
I looked at them
and wondered

If you covered the feet of others
how would you be?
would you be scratched and browned?
or simply forgotten in a box and frowned?

I looked at them
in the puddle of water, soaking 
darkening from the edges and silent 

The pressure you felt
when I tipped to kiss him
and the lightness when I jumped
to hug Jim 

The compliments you heard
in Arabic, French and English
made you feel like such a prince so British! 

Then I asked

If someone else had gotten you from France
you would have missed my glance?

If a man got you, would you compliment his suit 
or simply, just accompany his commute?

All of a sudden
it rained, heavy rain
looking like long chains

I wanted to move, they fixated
I couldn’t find a reason why this related
I pulled and pulled, yet they maintained

GASP
Could it be? That they have a mind of their own
with foretold stories, that they plan all alone?

Could it be? That they are the ones that made me wait
the extra 5 minutes to see that handsome hunk
with the free spirit?

Could it be? That they turned me right
instead of left, to discover a library
lit so bright?

I still tried to move
I am drenched now
and they are still nailed to the ground

Suddenly a door opened on the terrace
and an umbrella peeked

He had the same shoes I did
in different hues
one of the very few

My eyes opened wide
“Could it be?”

“Hey you
why are you still here” he said

I simply replied
looking down at them

“Oh I get it now”

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