I’ve noticed something peculiar
while sipping my morning jo.
Nothing too serious, mind you.
Just something you need to know.
There’s usually a man out there
who asks for around six dimes
I’ve seen a few different men today
In fact, they’ve changed six times.
But that’s not even the weirdest thing.
No, I have far stranger news.
No matter how many come and go
they always leave their shoes.
So one day I was curious
and I had to go find out.
Who they were, what they were doing,
and what the shoes were about?
When I began to ask him questions,
he held firm in the wind.
Handed me a book
and smiled, “Take a look.
It’s worth the time you’ll spend.”
So I raced through the door,
drew all the curtains,
and with some bourbon insistence.
I began to read,
Then felt the need,
To question my own existence.
I skimmed every sentence front to back
68 times, in fact.
Even the colons and paragraph breaks
had an everlasting impact.
There was neither author nor publishing date
and no footnotes to ignore.
But something was brewing deep inside.
I absolutely had to know more.
I barely waited till sunrise,
to meet him at their spot.
My tummy, my rumpus, my knees and ankles
were all tied in a knot.
My silly heart had skipped a beat
when I saw no man was there.
All I found was the same pair of shoes
and a little blue note that said: