by Mandy Rosenberg
Scratched-up rubber and worn down laces,
faux leather crafted for the races.
Tied aglet seams holding to desire
hanging from thick bound wire.
The first brother desired them tossed,
proving his allegiance to chaos and squalor
First brother’s brother desired them lost
without the neighborhood would no longer bother
to chew on their ears for jewels
to suck their stomachs for nuts
to offer up their white bread for rules
and their literacy for their guts
The first brother chose bare feet
stringing the laces to the wire
for years the rubber would mark the street
his health and virtue would expire.
The other knew to wear his shoes,
one heard the same pair squeak.
He was none of intriguing news
he grew old and weak.
Snow, rain, wind, ice
his sneaks liked the stiff air.
Though the children knew of his vice
they passed by without care.
