"Shoeprints"

(Brad Kleiman)

 

Her wit is arid

Her comebacks are rapid

She's slender and tight in her jeans

 

Her eyes have a squint

with lids painted mint

or some similar color of green

 

Her hair is volcanic

Her stare makes me panic,

though the same pertains to most


When she wears a dark face,

I leave open a space,

a place to thaw out her ghosts

 

She walks with meaning

No aimless careening

There's a mission in every stride

 

She leaves shoeprint reminders

so that I may find her

Her sole-stamped path is my guide

 

Her hair is volcanic

Her stare makes me panic,

though the same pertains to most

 

When she wears a dark face,

I leave open a space,

a place to thaw out her ghosts