TWO SHOE POEMS: MINOR and SHOES

MINOR
by Ryn Gargulinski

we remember
things that hurt like
our first broken heart long
lost pets who up
and died the
friend who gave a
gift and then
took it right back – she would

rather gift the gift now to
Shannon, she
said – the chipped

tooth on the
water pump the
Hubba Bubba in
the hair – the

snowball
in the back at the
bus stop – that hurt
less than its
derisions and
snarls -- or the size

four antique
buckle shoes – I
crammed on my
teen feet’s
size eight.

____

SHOES
by Andrew Ulanowski

Shoes, shoes, the musical fruit
They kill my feet but they’re SO CUTE!

I’m supposed to be writing this STUPID poem about shoes,
but, I’ve decided that I’m going to protest the fact that
while shoes come in many assortments of
size, color, material, style, etc.
Seems someone forgot a very important category indeed . . .
flavor!
With that said, I vow from now on only to wear banana leaves
on my feet, held on by some string or perhaps some old bungie chord,
shunning shoe-dom until justice (and tasty shoes) have been served.