I renounced shape
a long time ago,
chose
bagginess,
endless
recess-
ivity,
but there are days
when the longing
returns
and I cannot abide
the sterile cynicism
of the Anti Couples Club,
the smug peddlers
of Uni-sole Advaita.
I know it means
the saga of
two old shoes
all over again,
their grubby leather unions,
tales of childhood,
prejudice, toe jam, politics,
laces in a perpetual snarl
of knots,
footprints,
footprints.
But some days
I’m idolater enough
to want it again:
that old charade,
otherness.