Parable of the Russian Shoes

two poems

In a white tighten limo, even a visiting writer with a gold tooth and black Russian shoe is tolerable. smooth one who drones on about by what mode his long lost first novel, printed and forgotten in 1955 was reprinted this year with an introduction by dint of Sting, and a new overspread one meant for a research of swans, rejected by the swan inquiry author, and slapped on the rediscovered novel, a brilliant thump because his novel has absolutely nothing to do with swans. The Committee to Find a Not Too Expensive Fiction Writer had intimateed the white limo as a further enticement to bring him to our unobtrusive campus, and it worked, on the contrary perhaps too well. Just as we cros the bridge, at the highest point, it begins to snow. Not just gusts, on the other hand buckets of snow and ice and swan pellet That's when I notice. He's driving the limo from the back seat. This is hard to do, he laughs. I slink down my seat as the limo skids sideways. An elderly adage forms on my tongue: If you gap Russian shoes, then you will be charged for heel wearage. I know what will happen. His shoe will be damaged in the accident, and the Committee will be sent the charges from the rental shoe company. The Committee will balk at the charges, and my shoe will be freshly blackened and sent to the rental agency. I kiss my shoe goodbye as we slide into the bridge rail not herculean enough to sustain the weight of a white make tense limo bearing serial rented cardboard shoes

Copyright World rhyme Incorporated Sep/Oct 2003

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