Shoes, orthopaedic, custom made,
casual style yet strong and sturdy, black and shiny,
Velcro strapped for ease and comfort, unworn and waiting,
pristine condition, still in the box.
He refuses to wear them.
Why walk when one press of the buzzer will bring
some ‘f*cking lazy c*nt’ to stand in waiting,
waiting for his pathetic demands as he lives out his sick role in bed.
I am so so sick.
I am too weak to walk he will bleat, refusing physio,
all interventions aimed at moving him forward – for why walk
when you have your servants to do all your bidding,
when you can’t be bothered to lift even your tiniest finger.
Malingerer, that’s what he is. Or is he?
When he screams at you, calls you a f*cking lazy c*nt –
why does he do that. Ask yourself, look at his past.
Look at his notes, read up his history and then you will know.
I wouldn’t like to wear his shoes either.
They would stay in the box.
The above is a thumbnail of someone I knew, someone I cared for (and about) in my place of work. (I am retired now.) Despite his readiness to verbally abuse, be buzzer crazy, demanding of attention – I liked him and would give him at least thirty minutes of my time each shift. We would chat, had a rapport, but that did not excuse me from the lash of his tongue outside these times.
Most presenting behaviours have a backstory… I knew of his. I would not like to be him, stand in his shoes.
For Susan at Poets United, whose prompt is Shoes.
(I don't know why 'shiny' has given itself a line and I can't seem to correct it.)
Image: Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Author: How can I recycle this