Barefoot And Free

Rattled from the embrace of unconsciousness
one Sunday morning in Anaheim at apartment D
(D for Drugs and the death of our dreams)
my brother and I stumble for the door
to find out "who the fuck is making that noise?"
because it's not going over well with our hangovers
and there they are at the dumpster
at the bottom of the stairs
one in the dumpster throwing things out into the alley
the other with both hands up deflecting the projectiles
and dancing side to side
it's a stunning sight
my brother and I stand at the top of the stairs just staring
then Ross snaps to and shouts down at them
"Shut the fuck up, assholes! People are trying to sleep!"
they both stop and look up at us
two brothers
probably closer in age than my brother and I
not twins, but quite clearly closely related
the two of them sporting obvious institutional haircuts
the one jumps out of the dumpster and shouts back
"You got any shoes?"
"What?"
did we really understand what he had just said?
half expecting a fight
his question made no sense
until we noticed that both of them were barefoot
"Shoes, we need shoes."
turning he shouts down the alley
"Who's got shoes? We need shoes."
and back to us again
"You got any shoes?"
"Not for you, get the fuck out of here."
my brother shouts
the barefoot brothers turn and walk down the alley
through the oily glass shard littered asphalt toward the car wash
shouting again
"Shoes, We need shoes! Who's got shoes?"
my brother and I return to apartment D
(D for deeper in debt)
"what the hell" my brother says
"more budget cuts at the looney bin."
we crack beers and jokes
I sit on the couch and have to laugh
staring at my toes
which are peaking through holes in my only pair of shoes

- S. Marvin Tuomala, 2005

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This is actually a re-write of an old poem from 1994. The original was thrown out along with ten years worth of notebooks one during a fight with my wife. I tried to write it again from memory, and I think it came out even better this time.