New Shoes



I want to be the dust you kick up on your walk home from school

the pebble that creeps into the cracks of your beaten up sneakers

and the duct tape you use to hold them together.


I want to make you feel the same way the thought of hot coals makes your feet feel

unstoppable and scared.

I want you to rip off the blisters before they’ve healed so you can see skin before it’s strong enough to stop from feeling

you won’t feel anything over those callouses

like sandpaper

except the sparks you strike up with the ground and rub into the dirt.

I want to make you leaden shoes to keep you from walking out again

or to give you time with each step to change your mind

coming down the hallway with the same cunning as a newborn baby

but the dependency is all mine

I can no longer be ashamed to say that I carry you with me the same way I used to carry around a rabbit’s foot

the closer I held it,

the luckier I thought I’d become

but really

the rabbit remained dead

I remained naive

and you remain the magical mall kiosk notion clipped onto my backpack

the good luck charm I killed to feel better about myself

we don’t walk home together anymore

when you walk,

you walk alone in your new fancy dress shoes

on the sidewalk so no pebbles can sneak in

but you mostly just drive anyhow

and I mostly just sit at the curb

kicking up the dirt.


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