Them shoes.

November 10, 2013 § 5 Comments

See them shoes in the window there?

Look at me! they scream.

You’d need balls the size of Chicago to come on in and try us on!

Them shoes.Snazzy, jazzy

black-and-blinding-white

I point, and say, “Wrap ’em”

without so much as

testing the fit.

Steppin’ out shoes,

best-foot-forward shoes,

shoes with soles that strike sparks on the dance floor–

look out Mr. Fred Astaire!

Old man shoes.Same old feet in brown shoes now

still as sleeping hounds side by side

on the kitchen floor

But wait–you hear that sound?

Tink of the spoon tapping the cup as this old man stirs his coffee.

Listen careful now!

Ain’t that the rhythm of Les brown & his Band of Renown?

Ain’t that the tap of light steppin’ feet as they cut a caper ‘cross the floor?

“Mmm, mmm, don’t he look fine,” says the feathered flock at the punch bowl,

and, “Just love a man who can dance,”

and, “Mercy girl–get a load of them shoes!”

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§ 5 Responses to Them shoes.

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