Tuesday, May 5, 2009

New Shoes




New Shoes



There is a place to hang your hat, a dwelling
Or habitat; a zealously guarded cardboard box,
And, there is something called a home.
The difference lies in the ambiance inside
Furniture, photographs, a stack of unpaid
Bills inhabit this. Yet, in a home there is…

A feeling of security, and of real intimacy.
A home can be an oasis from the world
Filled with beauty and serenity, or for a
Few lucky ones, the walls echo the cries
Of ecstasy. Then it truly becomes a haven
And an exclusive paradise for two, or more…

Mondays are kind of odd. I am busy most of
The time attending lectures, gatherings, and stuff.
Monday is when I don’t know where to park.
Going to my cave is not appetizing tonight.
So I think that perhaps I need to get new
Summer shoes -- the sexier and sluttier even better.

Prior to that, I drive into a fast food place craving
French fries with ranch. I ask the attendant for
A veggie burger meal; she serves me a bun piled with
Lettuce and tomatoes. How’d you expect me to pay
Full price for lettuce and cheap white bread I ask. I
Immerse my fries in ranch, and watch the people inside.

A former beauty queen passes by. She must have been
A real beauty 20 years past. She still is, if she where in dim
Light. Except the too tight jeans exalt a roll, and the
Overdone make-up, seems like too much mayonnaise
Splattered on dry, leftover turkey. A futile attempt to make this
More appetizing to the palate. She sits alone and waits.

Her platinum blonde hair reminds me of Marilyn Monroe.
I think that perhaps Marilyn did not want to sit and
Wait by the phone, while the globs of make-up could
Do no more -- anymore. I notice this place has no soy
Patties, yet is does have a lottery vending machine.
One must come here and expect to be lucky either way.

There is a veteran Chola sitting alone; I can tell by her
Leather face that she’s had a tough life. And by the way
She made a scene when her gold ring fell into the trash bin.
I look at those women, as I read a book and slurp my coke;
I wonder where have all the good men gone?
Oh!I then recall, that we are still at war.




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