(For Charles Bukowski, Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost and E. E. Cummings. On a more personal note, for Mike and Denise.)
on green
she moves
in too-heeled shoes,
relieved to feel the earth’s
velvet cushion,
but it’s still too
soon
to tell if
she’s in heaven
or hell,
and then she’s
back on the asphalt trail—
a hellish place
her feet know
so well,
and the well-worn
look of scorn
crosses her face
once more
until she arrives
at a second-hand place
and avails herself of
another’s goodwill
and good…tennissneakers.
iamericalaureli 