Shoes

We throw our sighs in vacant shoes

In the afternoon

Shutter the mind when it’s not of use

And the air grows cool

The sun is high, the ground is loose, the grass is new

There’s nothing there at all

 

And all was all we did

 

The air is heavy, the sky is blue, and I’m confused

The only logic I ever knew is of no use

In vacant lots with dusty shoes, we found things to do

There’s nothing there at all