Poetry Rerun #9 of 10

I am going to rerun 10 poems that I wrote and shared in the past. This is one of them, from October 2013. During these reruns I’ll be joining the Single Dad Laughing Health Club team at the Philly Tough Mudder, and almost immediately following, undergoing another bum surgery. Yay for my bum. Anyway, after the last poem that so many of you enjoyed, I went on a trip down memory lane to see what other poetry I had written. I actually had forgotten most of it, so this is almost just as fun and new for me as it will be for most of you.

Two Brand New Shoes On My Feet

Today would be no normal day,
Nothing bad would come my way.
I would not blend, I would not hide.
I was feeling rather bold inside.

So through my closet racks I flew.
Looking for what? I barely knew.
A shirt that made me stand right out,
Pants we all could talk about.

Shoes brand new and full of sheen,
Hair so nice, well kept, and clean.
Yes, I looked good, but not too much;
My jacket was the perfect touch.

And to the breezy streets I stepped,
And toward my destination crept.
Today was my non-normal day.
I looked the part in every way.

And as I walked with head held high,
I came across a homeless guy.
With dirt and life smeared ‘cross his face
Next to him, I was so out of place.

His pants were dirty, torn, and ripped.
For all his walking, he wasn’t fit.
I walked right by his empty stare,
With my nice clothes and perfect hair.

He never noticed me.

And soon enough along my way,
I came across a man quite gay.
His pants were tight and shiny too,
His belly shirt was something new.

He held a bright pink tiny phone
And was talking in such a femmy tone.
I walked right by his little act,
And thought, that guy has zero tact.

He never noticed me.

Yes, I still felt like a million bucks,
With clothes well-trimmed and neatly tucked.
Compliments would come my way
On my so not so normal day.

Then a woman with purple hair
And a shirt that said she didn’t care,
Smiled big as she walked on by,
But not at me, at some other guy.

She never noticed me.

And then a kid with eyes blue-green,
And a cleft lip that made me squeem,
Held tightly to her mother’s neck,
As I passed by on my hurried trip.

They never noticed me.

Around the next corner I did turn,
Still unnoticed and still determined
To have the day I set out to have,
With clothes that hit the latest fad.

Next a man, with arms like tanks,
And tattoos of tigers and naked skanks.
A shirt that proved his massive pecks
And veins popping out from his large neck.

He never noticed me.

And then a woman close to fifty,
And kind of chubby and kind of thrifty,
And hair so loose and barely done,
She was quite a homely one.

She never noticed me.

And then a man in a business suit
And slicked back hair and polished shoes
Was yelling things into his phone
Chewing someone to the bone.

He never noticed me.

I huffed a tiny silent huff
And then a tiny quiet puff
Out here is where the weirdos are,
Who ride the bus and never cars.

Who don’t know how to look the part;
They look more like bad abstract art.
Some people just try way too much,
They go too far with looks and such!

I kept walking.

Where I was going, they all would say,
Nice pants! Nice shirt! Please sit and stay!
They’d appreciate my shoes, my hair,
They’d be the ones to really care.

Yes this was my big not-normal day
When everything would go my way.
Everyone would notice me there,
And some might even stop and stare.

But… I got there.

And no one ever noticed me.

I strolled through all familiar eyes,
With a slightly larger douchey stride.
Oh, I got nods and friendly waves,
But it was just another normal day.

And as I reached my resting spot,
And gave it all a lot more thought,
And looked at all those people there,
And at their clothes and at their hair,

And saw how they all had douchey strides,
And how they all begged with wanting eyes
To somehow not blend-in today,
And somehow be noticed in any way.

I looked down at my expensive self.
I looked like I came from a store shelf.
In my quest to somehow stand right out,
I was normal as normal, there was no doubt.

And through the rest of my boring day,
I thought of the people I met on my way.
The lady with the purple hair;
The guy with tats who didn’t care;

The kid who’s face was not the same;
The mother who loved her little dame;
The man who talked on his pink phone;
The homely lady with hair undone.

Of all the people I recalled that day,
It was no one here, they were all the same.
And when my time came to a close,
I said goodbye and headed home.

Into the breezy streets I stepped,
And from whence I came, I now crept.
All new people I now would see,
So different, unique, and so not me.

Almost home, head no longer high,
I came across that first same homeless guy,
With dirt and life smeared ‘cross his face
Who really needed some saving grace.

I reached in the pocket of my expensive pants,
And fumbled for change for his outstretched hand.
I came up with a couple bucks,
Not enough to change his luck.

His pants were dirty, torn, and ripped.
For all his walking, he was so unfit.
I looked into his empty stare,
With my nice clothes and perfect hair.

And this time, he saw me.

“Thank you,” said he when I noticed him.
I smiled big, he returned the grin.
And I looked down at his tattered clothes,
And at the soil smudged down his nose.

Then at his shoes, and down at mine,
They both looked like a size nine.
And so I bent, and undid the lace.
It was me who needed some saving grace.

I slipped them off and held them there,
A tear came to his rich warm stare,
“These are for you, my dear man,
But I have one request, if you can.”

“Give me your shoes for me to wear,
Until I learn how not to care,
And until I see me through your eyes,
And until I walk with a humble stride.”

The man just laughed and slipped off his shoes,
They smelled of sweat and trash and booze.
I put on his shoes right there and then.
My big toe poked from their gaping end.

“Thank you” said I,
as I turned with with a sigh.
And I strode back into the street
With new shoes on my feet.

I knew not where those shoes would take me that day,
Please just somewhere not normal, and where that’s okay.

Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing

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Dan Pearce is an American-born author, app developer, photographer, and artist. This blog, Single Dad Laughing, is what he's most known for, with more than 1.4 million daily subscribers as of 2017. Pearce writes mostly humorous and introspective works, as well as his musings which span from fatherhood, to dating, to life, to the people and dynamics of society. Single Dad Laughing is much more than a blog. It's an incredible community of people just being real and awesome together!