I once had a pair

of sneakers,

They went everywhere

acceptable

for sneakers to go,

they got lonely

Sitting in a solemn row

in my closet

With the other shoes;

Sunday school

Was always bad news

for my sneakers.

To beaches and city parks

we went—

Electric, glow-in-the-dark,

stand-out bright,

with a hole in the toe—

Until it rained; then they

laughed through puddles

And I had to soak away

the muddy stains.

But then one day my dad,

finding the condition

of my bedroom to be quite sad,

sorted through

The waist-high mound

of clothes and records,

Dirty socks and underwear,

and found them. He said:

“These shoes have got to go.”

And they did.

(Of course, I think you ought

to know, when I arrived

Home from school, wishing

to inform

My parents of plans to go

fishing and when they said

“Of course, you go right on,”

I searched for them

Under my bed, but they

were gone.)

Maybe

I’ll go buy another pair

of sneakers

So I can wear

a hole in the toe.