I bought these shoes in Baltimore.
I'll walk until they're worn.
I wear down the rubber soles,
until the cloth is frayed and torn.
As I wander thru new cities,
I'll look for life's implicit truths.
I will let my clothes get soiled.
I will wear holes in my shoes.
When I dream upon a park bench,
waiting for the sun to come,
I will remember my debacle.
I will remember how to run.
And I'll refuse to see you back there.
I can't think of what I've left.
When I finally spoke to get you,
I made my life a mess.
I will stop when things are different,
when I can finally see.
When I've worn through these rubber soles
and stand with blisters and bare feet.
Maybe I'll return to Baltimore
for the chance to try again
To see you in the sunlight
and try to hold you in my hands.