Imposter 3

At the mall, I ask my parents

for the right brand. White leather

chubby rubber soles.

Stan Smith is the man! Whoever he is.

Mom and Dad kindly indulge me

with strained looks on eager faces.

The bored clerk in a referee shirt

laces me up indifferently as my heart pounds

with the guilt of my greed,

and the way

the expensive shoes look all wrong

on my enormous feet.