Shoes

I’ll be writing you
February,
One of these days.

They say this is the month
Where all of my lovers’ souls
Come up with the crocus
And stare up at the far-away,
Giving off red beams into the universe
And advertises wanting
From my shoes.
***

And what if I’m barefoot?
What’ll I do until I find my
Two sides of feet?
And walk around waiting for these
Late snows to melt and
A spring-bulb girl to pop out from
Underneath, write me a love-card
And hope that I may find
My sneakers or sandals,
Run off with her in this footwear
And never get stones inside,
Kiss under trees where I just might
Take these … Off again.