camouflage slip-ons

whatever shoes i was given back then i could not possibly let go of.

it was unfathomable. it was an outrage

that the light-up ones, the purple sandals,

even the astronaut rainboots had to go. i wanted them,

i wanted to wear them, 

and even after i couldn't wear them i wanted to keep them

close at hand. the days my mom sent me

to the dumpster, limp sneakers in hand, were the saddest ones,

for i knew i was losing a friend. i hid them,

sometimes, in between the recycling bins. i tucked

the camouflage slip-ons there, tips gaping away from the sole,

and promised i'd be back. i haven't heard from them since.