Ugly One-horned Mules
So I was shopping for shoes with Sarah--$10.77!
$10.77 with a techno backbeat!-- But
the unicorns. See, there were
these-- What does my breath smell like?
I haven't eaten since 4 yesterday and it's 7 now
But these damn shoes... The dog is
supposed to be helping me write this poem
but she's uncooperative--and dogbreath. She and I aren't used
to getting up
at 7. Or 8 or 9. But this poem's
not about her.
It's supposed to be...
fuzzy pink unicorns, is what I planned.
All over me and the blanket and
pillow notebook ME... the hair! The HAIR! Why can't
it stay on the dog?! But see I was in
the kids' section because
they're cute--the shoes, not kids.
Kids can screw off-- but there was a shiny patch,
(you know I like shiny things, Mr. Vain.) It's not
that I don't like
it's that I hate them and pink's
the new shade of disgust--Yack. $60 shoes
for $10.77, how'd she do that?
no help at all--those shoes want to make me yack.
Proud, over-cuted. Even the fucking black ones
that are supposed to be evil,
just full of crap as the fuzzy pink ones.
Talk about Mr Vain-Brittney Spears shoes.
But you never see shoes with dragons.
Yack. And I thought my breath was bad in the morning.
Sarah, wearing $10.77 shoes: 'Can we go?'
Yeah, we're done. No green dragon shoes anyway.
Unicorns, you still suck.