Shoe Sale Poem by Ben Barton

She stacked the sale items
one by one
and waited for the monday rush...

Each customer a problem
every pair a fault
All were too tight fitting
not a thing was right

So she left the midday sunshine
and trod unwillingly home,
strolling barefoot to her door
knowing never to return there
anymore

She spent the afternoon stacking
Her shoes
upon the lawn

And later -
she slowly struck a match
and burnt the hideous, horrible tools
of discomfort
She bid them goodbye
as they spluttered in the
blistering heat
and bubbled

Suffocating.