The Dirty Shoe Mender Poem by Swamidhason Francis

Climbing out of my Audi car I had to cross the downtown street
Acquiring the dirt and dust thrown off the autos of the street,
And stepped on the glazing floors of the restaurant with stars five;
But the impeccable flooring exposed the dirt of my shoes uneasily live.
I squirmed in self-conscious dirt bursting my ego with shoes unclean;
The waiter came in shining black shoes taking orders with manners clean;
I gulped the ten Pound Brit tea and pulped his status with a five Pound tips;
He bowed so low saluting me as if he had forsaken his hips.
That made some amends to my ego, but still I felt like a crownless king
With my un-shining dirty shoes and uncanny look that lost its wink.
I looked for Wall-Mart malls to buy a hundred Pound branded pair
That could make my person presentable, regal and fair
But could find only a dirty shoe mender squatting at the corner
With pieces of leather, nasty slippers and shoes with holes in the corner,
All strewn around him, as he shined shoes black and brown.
I trusted his labor and stretched my shoes with all the dust and dirt;
He dusted the dirt, polished the shoes shining in sweat without any shirt.
Silently he worked and asked his wage like a fakir begging alms,
“Five pence” I heard him quote. Losing my cool, I used words like arms
And said “Four pence” and threw a five pence coin; he returned one with dirt;
I got into my Audi, content for regaining my ego and earning a penny with dirt.




5/1/2015