The Shoes of Buddy Katsuda
His shoes were made of water
And when he walked he flowed.
One foot after the other,
His stride kept him moving
Gracefully forward so that he strolled.
His was the recognizable walk of elegance.
All the neighbors knew him:
The man who sauntered the streets
Each step full of piety.
He walked with the strength of the universe
Under his feet, yet no one knew
Where he went. He always drifted through
Gallantly, so distinguished in his meander.
If anyone tried to follow him,
His shoes were prone to a shift in tide.
He then gathered the momentum of a river—
He rushed, and in his rush he surged ahead
To walk the walk of a flash flood.
He cut a path
Clearing everything before him.
Behind him, he left a mess.
Welcome mats, lawn ornaments, cars scattered
Everywhere, yet his foot prints evaporated