Baskets of Falling Shoes

I keep waiting
for the ball to drop
or is it the shoe?
I take staccato steps
and my heart,
mind,
fingers
wait for those ball droppers,
those shoe shoppers
who fling that footwear
around as soon as
shit goes down.
They threaten
and collapse the world
in a minute
by dropping shoes
or balls
at your feet
and then you can never
go back to how it was
before.
Who are these choosers,
these choice-makers
that crash our world up?
These world-stoppers
and life-shakers
who drop misery at our feet?
Well I think
They
are us.
We do it
and wait for something
to happen
and blame it all
on those days
where everything falls apart,
those moments
where we can’t take back
those words
or looks
or minutes
that lapsed into regret.
I’m waiting for the man
with the basket of shoes
to drop them
on my doorstep
because I did something
on accident
and the ball hasn’t dropped yet.

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