Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

“I hate them,” he shouted, flinging his shoes across the room. “Why?” asked his mother. “Nobody wears white shoes. They stink.” “But they look so nice.” “They don’t. They’re horrible.” The shoes stayed hid in a closet as the season passed. Then the boy’s mother told him to tidy his room. “Where’s your nice white shoes?” she asked him later. “I dunno. Must have got mixed up with all that junk I was throwing out.” An orphan searched the dump for food. White shoes that he found in a bag kept his feet from getting cut, and that was good.

“February made him shiver with every paper he delivered.” Not just the weather—too dark to care—nor the news—to dark to read. Not the gray and empty streets, nor even the fact that Christmas seemed another year away. February made him shiver with memory’s fingers on his spine; that February morning when a pile of rags by the road began to cry. Dropping his bike, with a “Bless me.” Baby arms and legs were stirring under the cloth. Shivering child. February made him shiver in the park, covered with newsprint for warmth, till the cops moved him on. First line taken from American Pie, by Don McLean