Poem: Ferraris


Written June 3, 2017

Two Ferraris, one orange the next day black.
When I see the black one I am walking home from work
on a late lunch break.

I carry my new black pointy shoes as my feet are sore.
The shoes, I cradle in one arm as I walk in my plimsoles.

Going home to check on the cats, check my emails,
change my environment.

Those two days I see the Ferraris they are waiting
at the intersection of Burrard and Dunsmuir at the red
light as I cross.

It was some months ago when I last heard them, through an open
office window, a block or so away.

Passing the flower stall and the Skytrain station,
I am not angry at the way the shoes hurt my feet,
just the slowness to break them in so I can wear them home.

One day I might not see the Ferraris but only hear the low
growl of their engines filling the downtown business district.


by Wendy Stewart



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