Sneakers


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.