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