Wednesday, March 26, 2008


from w
A friend is collecting thongs for homeless (presumably also shoeless) men in a shelter in St Kilda. Thongs meaning flip-flops. It got me thinking about shoes and my poor old favourite shoes when I go walking. And the Islanders rule about never wearing shoes inside a house. And I thought of Peter Brockelhurst who was once a cobbler, then an opera singer, and now he's back to mending shoes in Little Malop Street, Geelong. And other things such as a poem I wrote some time ago and had posted it on this blog last year I think.

At the station they line up.
‘You really are minimalist’, says Lefraques.
Thong answers, ‘So what? I don’t care!’
Lace-up stands up proud and shiny,
Prim and proper, self-esteem intact,
Nearby lethargic Desert Boots leans
Against a pole as a dog lifts a leg.
Sandals backs away in fright,
Bumps into Blandstones without a ‘Sorry’
And eyeing Jellybaby’s bright luminosity
Winklepickers kicks her hard.
The whole line becomes a brouhaha
Then with a cat-like grin, xenophobic
Brogues smirks at the disarray.

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