EXPLORATION 1
“Ode to Pablo’s Tennis Shoes”
Gary Soto
They wait under Pablo’s bed,
He wants to be
Rain-beaten, sun-beaten,
Like his shoes,
A scuff of green
A little dirty
At their tips
From the road,
From when he fell
A little worn
In the school yard.
From racing to the drinking fountain
He fell leaping for a football
A hundred times in one day.
That sailed his way.
It takes water
But Pablo fell and got up,
To make him go,
Green on his shoes,
And his shoes to get him
With the football
There. He loves his shoes,
Out of reach.
Cloth like a sail,
Rubber like
Now it’s night.
A lifeboat on rough sea.
Pablo is in bed listening
Pablo is tired,
To his mother laughing
Sinking into the mattress.
to the Mexican novelas on TV.
His eyes sting from
His shoes, twin pets
Grass and long words in books.
That snuggle his toes,
He needs eight hours
Are under the bed.
Of sleep
He should have bathed,
To cool his shoes,
But he didn’t.
The tongues hanging
(Dirt rolls from his palm,
Out, exhausted.
Blades of grass
Tumble from his hair.)
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