Today, I left home without a plan-
nothing unusual- it's what I always do.
But then, on the street, I met a man
who was admirably focused on his shoe.

I tilted my head as I asked, "Sir?
Do you need help? I could use some work."
The man looked up, seeming visibly hurt
at the question, his response was curt-

"Lass, are you blind? Can you not see
this shoe is far too round and floof?"
I mutter, "Well, that's rather subjective-
For a shoe, those'd be my preferred adjectives."

He wails and sobs and cribs and stomps,
"Lass, you have no sense of taste!"
He throws a tantrum, and complainingly huffs,
"Flat shoes are all the rage these days!"

I blink a bit, then nod a bit,
placatingly offering, "Here, have some rum."
He stares at me, still throwing a fit,
then pauses to take a sip and hum.

Within ten fleeting minutes or so,
he's rambling about his silly feats.
I grin and chug on some rum too,
and join in with an impromptu speech.

We sing and hum as we dance together,
Drunk, off-balance and hopelessly off-beat.
Then we finally disperse once we both feel better-
Two drunkards having 'all the rage' on our feet.

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Glacian, in the year 1010 AF.