He walked past a little place
A small portal of undoing.
Remembering a slight tatter of cloth,
The beginning of a frayed edge
A hint of the word threadbare...
The smell of hustled weed,
Elevator grease,
And muslin flooded his face
Janitors, hipsters, chatty katthy colonopin ingestions
Then to old coke weilding tree trunks of men
It was all coming to an opened ended circle
A reason to keep looking over your shoulder
Motivation to keep ones feet on the diagonal
Spilled suede in my wine she did...
And the kid still has the shoes to prove it
Looking back he wonders
Without the shoes
Would it have happened?
Without the scars,
Can you really prove u went to war?
He remains
Looking into love and romance
On a shallow angle of entry
Avoiding the tangential
Embracing the radial.
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