the new cues wear
old shoes that tear
so quick, but stick
like tar to faces,
tongue-tied by laces
pulled through lungs
that lie in vats
of acidic pride;
how far will they run?
how fast will they stride?
but the questions fall again
between gasps for oxygen
as carbon dioxide
and nitrogen
fill the void;
such are the old shoes,
always outlasting
their feet.