she's right, finally

your shoe
breaks down on
you,
the sole
separating from
the man made
leather portion
that rises
above it in a
stylish fashion.
it flops
as you walk along
with your date,
who is laughing.
but you have glue,
or more exactly,
rubber cement
in a brown bottle
with a small brush
for easy application.
your mother
always told you
to be prepared,
and glue
was just one of
many things she
suggested you carry
with you when
leaving the house,
not just clean
underwear. now
finally. after all
these years,
she is right
about something.