This morning, when my laces came undone,
And I walked on because I didn’t care,
It occurred to me that
The last time I saw you,
Your shoe laces were untied, too.
You guided me out of the building and
You hadn’t even properly put on
Your classic black and white striped running shoes.
Maybe, because you knew
You wouldn’t go much further
Than the automatic doors.
And probably you also knew that
I would just as well have found out on my own.
As much as I, Good Girl,
Could make my way through
Warm dark air towards the trains.
This morning, though,
When I was just about to
Take my treasures and my goods back home,
My laces still undone for
I didn’t have any further to go,
I wondered whether you,
Secretly,
Ever thought of that moment long ago.
And if, not having seen me in so long,
And surely not about to see me soon,
You somehow wished a tiny little bit,
That you back then,
At least,
Had tied your shoes.
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