3.27.07

I wore my velcro shoes today
Without regard for what they'd say,
Pulled the heels and tugged the straps
'Til they were snug around my socks—
The way a wrinkly grandma wraps
You gentlly like a Christmas box—

Paraded down the sidewalk bare,
Light-ups dull in the sun's glare
Until I reached my grown-up car
But opted for my bike instead,
Pumped the tires just so far
And put a helmet on my head,

Got to work and people gawked
As I made sure my bike was locked,
Substituted for a bunch
Of kids who mocked my fashion sense,
Thought I would be safe at lunch,
But teachers gave me their two cents,

And when the final bell had rung,
My son ran up to me and flung
His jacket on the filthy ground
And cried and said his friends were cruel;
They'd called him names and pushed him 'round
For wearing light-up shoes to school.

I picked him up and held him tight
And told him not to mind their spite,
Said he's everything to me—
One boy's mother, no man's wife—
And whispered to him quietly,
"Your velcro shoes light up my life."