Even some male company is a welcome distraction for a lonely
public humble-head on a dark night.
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| A man, a sweaty man, a REAL man - a much better man than me - approaches me through the darkness |
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| The man stops to momentarily mockingly look down upon me in my helplessness and impotence before him |
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| He then, casually, stretches forth his right, sneakered foot onto my menial, municipal mouth for respect-kissing... |
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| ...before focussing on the contents of his smartphone high above me |
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| I am grateful to the master-sir for showing me his SOCKS! |
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| Even the SOCKS of a MAN are better than no socks at all to look at! |
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| Such is my loneliness and hankering after SOCKS - the SOCKS of my BETTERS! |
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| All my lowly life is spent either observing, or thinking about, my customers' SOCKS... |
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| ...as I kiss-respect their FEET! |
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| Soon, all too soon for my lowly liking, the MAN moves off... |
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| ...no doubt with a smug, triumphalist grin on his SUPERIOR FACE? |
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| For my humble part, I remain fixated on the customer-master's SOCKS - as befits a lowly, lonely FOOTSLAVE! |
