Tuesday Poem: Shoe Strings

Of all things to filch
you chose shoestrings
perhaps because you
don’t get the physics of it:
how something so fluffy and flimsy;
how anglets could hold the weight
of heavy duty boots.

But if I were you, I would have
pilfered a column of good books
but where is the good head?
Where is the patience to dwell
on sentences that threaten to
shape your life?

Where are the exotic cuisine,
platters of patterned pasta
& the proposed writing, dessert?

Where are my shoe strings?