Purple Shoes…

November 9, 2009

Purple Shoes
She wandered the streets
In faded purple shoes,
She sang to herself
And she called it the blues…
It sounded more like death,
Than I think I can say.

She sits all alone on
A parking lot curb…
Her life is a pronoun,
Her dreams are all verbs,
She wonders if this is what God,
Really has for her here.

She sleeps through the day
And prays through the night,
Yesterday “Daddy”
Got killed in a fight.
Digging in dumpsters
Just looking for something to eat.

She hasn’t let anyone
Help her for weeks.
She walks away
Whenever anyone speaks,
Her loneliness has become
Her only relief.

She climbs up under
An overpass bridge.
Wishing she could forget
All the things that she did.
But her past has made friends with a demon,
Whose name is Regret.

All the books that she’s read
Had the endings ripped out.
She knows they could end well,
But she has her doubts.
She gives her own story less,
Of a chance to live

Haply ever after,
She lives her mournful dance
God writes to a dizzying rhythm,
With the puzzling pseudonym “Chance.”
Meanwhile she sings the blues,
And they sound like,


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