it is that’s encroaching . . .
Best of all is to be idle.
Poetry: three mismatched shoes
at the entrance of a dark alley.
— Charles Simic
A disregard for social norms
is wedged between my large & second
toe, which makes me trip
along in feet within a poem’s dark
alley. I ally
myself with trippery
mismatchery & breaking
boundaries. I believe it’s true, what Simic says —
The truth is dark under your eyelids.
So . . . what
can I do with the darkness
of alley & underlid,
I in my three mismatched shoes,
two for the feet & one for the jutting-
out paw? Dancing is out.
Jumping, skipping, as well,
but standing I do quite well,
feet & paw planted, taking,
in other words, a stand
& being idle. Preferably
in mismatched shoes
& a so-what grin.
