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Solitude at the mosque…(Rants of an old shoe)




Why are they looking at me this way?
As if am one of those who sway
This way
And that.

Its all a bunch of crap

Really.

They stare at the mud on my skin.
Yet they know well beauty isn’t skin deep.
I may not be as hip
As Mr Adidas over there,
Nor with it like Ms Nike over here.
But as a 7 year old moccasin
I know I have character
And Ms Peeptoe digs me.

I think.

But as they coo at the brush strokes,
And melt the kiwi with their hot skins,
They know they can’t match me.
Am soft and warm inside.
I keep my master warm..
In all these years of our relationship,
He’s never looked elsewhere

I just don’t know,
Whether it’s the look in his eyes every morning before he enters me,
Or the way he keeps me dry
As he hops, steps and jumps over sewers
Or when he defends me whenever somebody steps on me.
I don’t know.
I just don’t know.
But our relationship is royal.


Not always though
Once, it almost went up in flames
Just because of Ms Bathroom Slippers.
That whore!
She was spending all the quality time with him
Just because he was on leave
And wasn’t leaving home each dawn
She thought she owned him!
How dare she!
But I showed master!
One day when we went for a walk,
I slit my wrist as he tried to jump over broken glass.
He rushed me to the ICU
Down at Otieno’s
Shoe repairer ExtraOrdiNaire
It was he who first solemnized our marriage.

So they have nothing on me!
I saw the Tims come and go.
Did away with the Northstars,
And the Hushpuppies too.
Not to mention the Airforce ones.
So what the hell are they all about.
I may be old,
But the thing between me and my master
Is real.

2 comments:

erikson said...

too tight maze!

boyfulani said...

what a perspective!
like it.