These shoes of mine...
Well my friend, you wouldn't believe the places my shoes have been.
The life of my shoes began with the creation of their sole,
by the hands of a worker whose company found the loophole.
Rows and rows of women work for a shared motive power,
to get their kids food they bought for two dollars per hour.
These shoes of mine are shipped to a shopping mall,
built upon native bones as their descendance bawl.
I bought these shoes brand new from the store,
so that I could go walking and running around the outdoors.
I take a stroll through the streets with these new shoes of mine,
and walked past the shoeless man with a big jug of moonshine.
On the corner of 5th, a man raises his hand and shouts at his wife,
I briskly pass the couple, frankly because it's not my life.
The sun shines so brightly on this wonderful worry-free day,
a protester shouts "Anti-abortion!" and tells me to pray.
I decide to cut through the park and up that steep hill,
"white lives matter" flags are flying, being held by "very fine people."
I moved to this southern city some odd years ago,
to escape the cold temperatures and pure, white snow.
I start on the long journey, I've walked far from home,
and I pass by a poor street artist underneath the bank sky dome.
Taking a pause to stop and browse,
I decide to buy one with hills and mountains, birds and cows.
I read somewhere that I should support local vendors,
instead of buying all of my wall decor from chain-store contenders.
I don't understand those who buy from name brand stores,
when giving back to your local community means so much more.
These shoes, these wonderful shoes of mine,
walked by ridiculous people today, some completely asinine.
"You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. You are the guy who'll decide where to go." ~Dr. Seuss