Shoes

I have changed residences once again
     though the front porch I sit on remains the same. 

The play of the sunlight and of the maple tree leaves
     dapples the ground at my feet and I think of you.  

I am eating blueberries, one at a time, careful to not
     get the tiny seeds caught between my teeth,

the way yesterday’s problems tend to tuck
     themselves between the floorboards of my living space,

as if taking a nap will make them fresh for the journeys 
ahead; a trip to the grocery store, the gas station, 

to the place selling shiny electronics which
     eat up whole paychecks in one bite and to the shoe store.  

I like shoes.  And, if my small pocketbook would
     allow me, I would wear a different pair every day

And walk before you.  

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