The Shoes, Sir

He is speaking but I can’t hear him.

Not in any real sense.

Elections, god you hate them.

Three years is not long enough

to cleanse the senses; to throw off

the reams of promises, the taunts.

This politician has a suit.

It’s so Saville Row. Or Merivale.

You never know nowadays.

He raised his voice several times

and cliches rattled out.

He waved his arms to scatter his truth.

I noticed he forgot something.

His shoes – always

a big mistake.

That’s what my mother said:

check the shoes; the quality, the polish.

It was clear, then.

This man, by my mother’s measure,

was nothing more than an oaf.

One thought on “The Shoes, Sir

  1. He is speaking but I can’t hear him.
    Not in any real sense

    Well-described, Sir, least we forget we live in the days when the last ‘slops’ of wondrous promises are splattered our way!

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