Black Converse

Imagine a life without imitation.

Then, consider how
a life is a life
if it is an imitation.

Canvas covering,
gaping holes,
blackened laces –
you are evidence
of my false life.

In you,
I’ve walked a thousand
miles through
Beat Generation America,
80s punk, and
sixth-form college.

On you,
I affixed badges
emblazoned with
anti-
establishment
slogans, as well
as hopes
of cool indifference.

For you,
I bore stones
and wet feet, when
fashion pummelled function
to a pulp.

Scanning the morn
for incontinent clouds
became the norm,

but I
get the feeling you
were teaching me to
look out of
myself
and up
at the

sky.