When some people are wealthy they tend to buy shoes.
It’s a faint curiosity as with most things.
But for sole reinforcement it is but a farce –
An insult to the poor one whose wardrobe is sparse.
Incomplete satisfaction self-indulgence brings
To flamboyantly rich ones compelled to abuse.
Our feet must have protection. The soles must be tough
To defend well the tenderness of the bare feet.
Our lives must have fulfillment or else we will feel
That we have not a reason to deal with what’s real.
Nothing beats the reality of sheer conceit
Intertwined with our natures. We can’t get enough.
To master economics and stay in the black
Or to tread life in true work – which path is more wise?
Shoes require some polishing. They’re prone to wear.
If some look at my shoes I don’t need them to stare.
They may speak of my status. They are not a prize.
They get me where I’m going, and I don’t keep track.