5327. SHINING FATHER'S SHOES

SHINING FATHER'S SHOES

Shining father's shoes, like wearing father's

clothes, was more a young boy's plight than

any other thing  -  as a young boy, really

young  -  like five  -  to plod around in

oven-sized stuff was to be like something

you weren't. Dad did this  -  and this way too.

-

On the old faded wallpaper, in a third-stairway

kitchen, were the hooks where he daily hung his

work clothing. The usual day-jacket, some pockets

filled with junk, and that rag that always knew his nose.

At the floor, beneath it all, each evening went his shoes;

he'd spend those evenings before some televised nothing,

more than likely in a snooze. That's the time I played

and put on all those shoes and other singular things.

-

In time (once, Christmas, before I'd died) he'd bought

for me a shoeshine kit  -  from whence I'd not just wear

but shine as well these everyday work shoes, amidst

all their daily grime how stood out that shine.