Sunday, February 15, 2009

Feet (a poem)

I give you this undated poem from my childhood, circa 1980.


I woke up when the sun was bright,
and sleepy as I was,
got out of bed.

Oh! Gosh!
something smells,
it's the smelly sock,
I wore yesterday.

Hey, it's dark,
and soft in here;
I think it's the shoe,
that's red, white, and blue.

Weight on my soles,
this hurts so much,
I can take no more.

Off and on,
and on and off,
this weight on my soles, toes,
and the ball of my foot.
This pain I can't bear any more.

Ah! It's dinner,
I can tell,
I hear a murmur of somethin' swell.

Munch, Munch,
that is all they do,
eat and eat until they're blue!

Weight again,
hey, we're going up stairs,
at last that oye, gooye,
stinky smell from this sock,
is coming right off,
it's nine o'clock.

It's dark,
I'm gonna' die.
Black is all I ever see.

The foot went to sleep,
and got up the next day.
No, he didn't die,
not that little ol' guy.

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