SHOES

I take off my shoes and try to make no noise so he won't wake, I know the way by heart. Even now with the lights off I could tell the clothes on the floor, I could draw a map with his pants, and shoes, and books on the corners, in the middle of the room and by the bed, I can almost see the new sketches he must has drawn. I'm shoeless standing next to him, wishing I could talk But I'll have to wait for daylight to come and set a smile upon my face and answer the routinary questions about the party, people and trends, and pretend everything was great... almost too much. So by noon I'll have my stuff into my old, little dirty bag and hit the road. I might leave the shoes as well and buy some others, really noisy ones.