Shoes
Shoes
Shoes.

They grate upon your toes
Like grinding teeth
In their inherent comfort
And they 
Rub
Rub
Rub
You raw
So that you are ready
To be cooked.

Here is the thing
About the culinary arts;
Nothing tastes good
Just by itself:
Like the pairs upon pairs
Of
Shoes
Shoes
Shoes
In the closet.

When you’re too raw
For the pan
They throw you into the infirmary 
Because no one likes
Blisters on their meal.