for sale: closet full of unmatched shoes, mostly right--25 cents

sticky liquid sound
of my old brindle hound
slopping on her mound
disembodied in the darkness

repurposes as the soundtrack

for a tight shot: 
spot lit
center stage,
alone
on a simple fluted column,
one
brand new

black
leather
high top
left, 
with an urgent red swoosh on either side.
 
linger.
 
fade to black.
a moonless night
beyond house lights and power lines
my eyes so wide and hallucinogenically clear
my foot,
sucked shoe-less by the muck
numb
up to my elbows
in dark winter stew,
rooting for the right mate.