I Am the Bodhisattva Who Saves the People On This Bus From the Smell of My Feet

[ via The Badger ] You’re on a cross country bus. You want to take off your shoes. But you don’t want to unleash the WMDs your feet have become on your fellow travelers. Your dilemma inspires a vivid poem:

My feet burn to be free

listening to the hail jump ecstatic off the road.

Free from the rot leather and rubber gone bad

in the Oregon rain.

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This entry was written by Bill Humphries and posted on April 8, 2004 at 12:00 am and filed under humor, writing. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the Atom feed for this post. Both comments and trackbacks are currently closed.