"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