The Ballad of the Solitary Detritus - Urban Edition

The other eve, I went to see
A film of moving picture art
It wasn't bad, it tickled me
And had a lot of heart

It came to pass that on a stair
As I was walking to my car
I found a shoe just lying there
Its owner, gone afar

I wondered then just what could cause
A person climbing up a flight
To doff the padding on their paws
While gaining greater height


It seemed so odd, a single shoe
Just sitting silent, all alone
And so, at loss for what to do
I snapped it with my phone

And why did I? I do not know
It's only that it seemed to me
That I should note this sad tableau
For all prosperity


My vehicle admitted me
Though I was haunted by the sight
I still turned on the drivers' key
And drove into the night

I swore a little when I saw
The fuel light upon the dash
My curs'ed car! Its thirsty maw
Forever swallows cash

So I consigned myself to stop
At petrol station, brightly lit
And though expensive, had to pop
For topping off a bit.

I took the nozzle from the pump
And stuck it in the hole for gas
And so began the liquid bump
From "E" to "F" in class

But when I raised my eyes to where
The numbers ticked my bucks away
I saw an object lying there
Upon the big display

It seemed the lonely shoe I'd viewed
Alone and bathed in summer moon
Was not the only soldier who'd
Been left by his platoon

Upon the pump, just waiting still
Was someone else's threaded cap
Beneath an ad for snacky swill
And other nasty crap


It seems that it was left behind
By someone else who'd pumped and left
And there it was for me to find
Abandoned and bereft

It puzzled me, I must admit
The second time that night I'd crossed
The path of some inanimate
Doohickey that was lost

You'd think that you would notice though
Before you'd gotten very far
A missing shoe, a naked toe,
A petrol-smelling car

I guess I couldn't help but hope
The cap and shoe I'd come to find
Were not cast off by just one dope
Who'd also lost his mind

I didn't waste a lot of thought
While pumping gallons in my tank
Afraid I'd end up over-bought
And break the bloody bank

But even so, I thought it good
To once again play shutterbug
And document it where it stood
I snapped it with a shrug

It's only now while going through
The "photos" folder on my phone
I find occasion to construe
These items left alone

The world's a hurry, all of those
With figures, tables, lists and facts
Could stand to stop, and smell a rose
Or otherwise relax

There's accidental poetry
For those who pay attention to
The stuff that most folks wouldn't see
But some of us...?

We do.


FIN.