A sandal sprawled alone in the middle
Of Kuhio Avenue. Its features were disfigured
By the wear of two hundred tires
Passing over it, but I could tell it was one
Of those many colored rubber slippers
Preferred by those native to Hawai`i.
One of the straps was broken
And that was why it had been left
Out there, in the middle of a busy street
Or, while rushing to cross, the owner
Might have lost it and the strap broken
By a hurrying Toyota or Chevrolet.
A Volkswagen ran over it as I watched,
Sending the sandal into a dance
Its many colors reflecting the bright sun.
T
he strain of the dance revealed a crack;
The slipper had nearly split in two
So that the heel barely joined the sole.
I had no reason to run into the street,
But I rescued the sandal and tucked it
Deep into the grass hidden from view.
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