Sometimes I see my life As a pile of old shoes In the bottom of my closet Never worn anymore—forgotten The running shoes—trashed by miles of pavement The dress shoes—worn at operas, concerts and theater Remembered only by ticket stubs in journals no longer read And every day work shoes scraped bare and exhausted All their laces frayed by too much too much I gather them up in a trash bag And send them off to the landfill Their last journey a ride in the dumpster To a monstrous Waste Management dump truck I wave “good-by” so grateful for my new black loafers