“Shoeless” by Scott Sparks

I park my car in the nearest empty slot
The breeze, it would seem, has taken the day off
Shoeless, numbered paces and pebbles dent my heels
Until soft sand underneath is all my footpads feel
Shards of glass from unspoken bottles deny my leisure
Empty cans of liquor signify good times were had here
The insignificant sight of an overcast sky blankets my eye
Though the weather-person said it’d be outside
I listen to the waves as they crash out of habit
No one’s flying kites or carrying a picnic basket
The sound of laughing and splashing is utterly absent
I’m quite convinced the fish have fled because no one’s casting
Even bubbles won’t provide the shore its foam
While the sun stays hidden behind thickened clouds all alone
As I return to my ride, I couldn’t leave too soon
Making quick work of my exit after slipping on my shoes


—Scott Sparks

About richardfyates

Compulsive creator of the bizarre and absurd. (Artist, writer, poet, provocateur...)
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