Those Lost Galoshes

If I’d had a thousand soiled doilies
on my front stoop at any time
during the tirade of lost galoshes,
I could have cashed in, gotten me
an early retirement.

But what did I do instead?
I picked soiled tea cozies.
Now I’m broke, and those
lost galoshes ain’t
never coming back. Jack.

Author: Aidan Badinger

Wharved.com I am a poet. I write poems. Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s