Poem By John Perreault
A road can't be as sad as a shoe is sad
when a shoe can't read.
I can't read either.
And I have given away all my clothes
and gone away so far
that no one will even remember that I've gone
nor how far I went when I was here.
For a road can't be as crazy as a ranch is mad
when a ranch can't sing.
I cough. I spit. I jump up and down
and I run around like a headless rooster.
Me too. I am not lonesome. I am gregarious.
I make friends with the curbstone even.
But a shoe can't be as pretty as a wheel when it's turning
or a tunnel uncovered by chance.
And a shoe can't be a lobster.
I am as free as a belt or a bell or
a dog on a leash
gone crazy with the aroma of flagpoles.