the lost shoe

it's a worn shoe
i find in the alley,
just one, brown,
the polish dulled
and the tongue ripped out,
a thin layered hole is
at the point of contact
of foot and pavement,
but there is only one
shoe, not the other,
the left and not the
right, i look around
and see nothing, only
this single tattered
wing tip and so i take
it with me, under my arm
as i start the day, going
about my business,
but on the lookout for
the person with only
one shoe on, and not
the other. it has become
as much my problem
as it is his, or was.