Shoes on a line, a poem by Thomas Rogers Muyunga Mukasa

Shoes on a line!

Hanging like a three-toed sloth,

suspended by shoe-laces is a pair of boots,

swinging as the wind blows, this and that way,

the pair of boots must have had help,

a child mocking authority , or a perhaps older,

must have hurled these hapless boots high up,

now the telephone wire sags under the weight,

meanwhile the black boots swing left and right,

the wind seems to run a haze on all objects,

some stand firm, but others are swept away,

hopefully the sky does not give up its contents,

a non-suspecting passer-under, the culprit,

not knowing of the hurtling pair of boots, earth-bound,

all this, in the narrow street called Balmy,

boasts of congested narrower apartments,

the apartments on one side, if one looked,

mirror those on the other,

they stand so close together,

windows stare straight at each other,

tenants on both sides converse easily,

 no need to raise voices,

salt, curry or any recipe is easily shared,

from a kitchen on one side to the other,

inhabitants here have a tailored haecceity.