Saturday, March 29, 2014

Replacing Shoelaces

is such a mundane

that it somehow seems
anciently ritualistic,

something I never have to practice
but always know how to do,

as if I'm tapping into
a timeless practice
native to my species
and instinctive to my body;

a practice, though, that is
going the way
of the dodo
and the post office

as the mass of
ever-advancing humanity
shifts to
and other laceless footcoverings
as we grow
ever more prone
to simply tossing out the old
and buying up the new
before the natural effects of
time and wear
are allowed to settle in.

We're missing the aglet and the string of
the slick and skinny Sunday shoelace
(ever too short)
the puffy snake-patterned hiking boot lace
(ever too long),
though we do seem to be compensating with
the neon, plaid, and other designer fads
that are transforming the lace from a
boring staple of life
to a statement of individual -
or more likely sub-cultural -
which, too, seems necessary
to replace
from time to time.

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