Hey look I found time for me!
Well, the TSA thing's still going on because they pegged me correctly - I am quite the lazy bastard. But I shall have my revenge yet! So tonight I tried to write a quick story, but didn't have the right mood for it (it was about a sad, balding man who I may have made paralized if I let myself continue - yikes). So instead I wrote a poem. I kinda dig it. Too bad there's no Will's for me to share it in. All the other places have too likely a chance of pretensioning me to death.
---
I stare into my darkened closet
where I’ve stored old pictures of you
and I look at an old pair of tennis shoes.
They’re very dirty, layered with years
of ill-thought jaunts through mud,
unforgiving sessions of lawn mowing,
and once a treacherous scaling of a river embankment.
I’m not sure, but I think they can’t be worn again
as last I remember they had holes
larger than the shoes themselves
somehow defying physics
and the soles had eroded to the point
where I could spot ancient fossils.
But they were good shoes, you know.
I mean, they always fit my feet
and that’s saying something
as my feet tend to be wider than
even the stoutest of stitches can bear.
And despite their wear
they never looked worn-out
even though I had to replace the shoelaces often
most of the time not getting the correct length
and having to tie the shoes to my ankles
to make sure I didn’t trip.
And now they sit there in the closet
next to the rollerblades I will never use
and the old dress shoes that never looked good anyway.
But those tennies
when the logos had worn off and
my neglect had rendered them shoddy
they never got tired of me.
Rather, I grew tired of them
and put them away, not cleaning them before I did
of course
just placing them on the carpet,
to be kept for no real reason
right next to the box
where I keep my pictures of you
--
There you go. I have updated. Happy, Liz?