The Shoe
It sits precariously
Toe over the ledge
Teetering
Off the building that reaches so high into the sky
Poking gingerly at the Wolf moon
The shoe sits there as
Eternity land and reality land slowed to a halt
For years and years, halted
All alternate realities ceased to exist and stared precariously
Through two sided window mirrors built into the building
That scraped the sky
With onlookers peering out anonymously
Eating popcorn
Watching the show with anticipation
The Shoe
It is in Limbo land
Limbo Land is the movie — hell on the mind and body
Go left, Go Right, Up, down? Stay put, leave, push the shoe?
Indecision nether land, not knowing or deciding
In the only reality land left
Limbo Land
The shoe and her soul are on a high wire without a choice
The gawkers are waiting for the
Shoe to Drop
Eagerly watching as if life were a movie
In the movie, the lead actress,
she’s looking up the windowed sky scraper from the ground
The frigid, cold, dry air penetrating her lungs
As exhaled steam rolls out of her nostrils
Reflections of the moon and
The Wolf, on top of the building
Standing over the shoe
Powerful legs, paws, and shoulders pushing down on the ledge
The shoe between them, still teetering
He is staring down with penetrating eyes
Seeing through the darkness and space
And searching to shed a fake reality
And repressed emotions
A reality the wolf is yearning to leave behind
The Wolf, it wants reality land
A pack that is on its side, helping and connecting
Something it doesn’t have in the now time
So, The Wolf, it kicks the shoe off the top
Decision made for all to see in movie land
Kicked Limbo Land in the ass
With trepidation, though
There’s no happiness or anger at booting the Shoe
But the Wolf, he boots it, nonetheless
The audience sits up in their seats, they stop chewing their popcorn
Their eyes widen, pupils dilate and focus
Eyebrows lift as the forehead skin wrinkles in concentration
A howl emits a melody that penetrates the air
Head lifted up, powerful legs holding the building down
With it’s snout, long and pointed, up up up
Tickling the universe and black matter and space and stars
He opens his powerful jaw and emanates a
Sad, long, deep and guttural wail-howl that
Sends shivers down all the backs of those in earshot
The entire city
and causes their nipples to erect as the
Hair on arms pokes up, full of mental electricity
At the thousand reflected wolfs on the mirror windows
All howling in unison
Wolfs don’t cry, but this one is crying
From it’s voice that slices the city, the lights,
The souls of eardrums who are in it’s wake
The howl of howls weeping loudly
It fills the shoe with despair that adds weight and speeds the decent
Of the Howling Shoe
As gravity does its thing
Pulling the object down against its will
She looks up with those pretty brown eyes
With bags under them and hidden tears
And subdued emotions
And fear of the future and loss of control
Those eyes and face stare, out of focus but see’s something coming
A distant object growing larger and larger
She hears the howl faintly at first, as the shoe barrels forward
She stares as it plunges and rolls and flips down down down
The laces, they are flapping and poking up as the wind batters forcefully
Fraying the string as it gains speed
It’s lIke a 5000 Ton train steaming downhill with no brakes
Gravity still doing it’s thing, with purpose
The Wolf horn is screaming and blaring it’s warning
A warning that’s been on the horizon for years
The howl is louder and louder than ever now
She can hear it now, clearly
The shoe, filled with sorrow but with intention
A tear, it forms in one eye, rolls down her cheek
As the howl penetrates her ear canal and triggers reality
The sound waves push thru to the hearing hairs that vibrate signals
to her brain where the howl sound comes into clear focus
The signals are instantly transmitted deep into her bone marrow
Into all of her souls and feels
And she screams and cries as the shoe, it comes into focus
Howling relentlessly towards her
It’s essence exudes
Reality
It drops on her forehead, smashing her hopes and dreams
The white picket fence shatters and the grass turns brown
The Jones’ across the street won the battle of the yards this time
The Wolf, looking down, closes it’s jaw slowly
But the sound
It echos and survives through the night
And its tears drop on the mirrors
Mirrors that are distorted with frozen sadness
The Wolf slowly turns, head first with body following
In slow motion, out of sorts, but with purpose
It’s tail between it’s legs, head down and senses dulled
But it moves onward to face the future without it’s pack
It’s howl gone
For now