Shoes

We throw our sighs in vacant shoes
In the afternoon
Shutter the mind when it’s not of use
And the air grows cool
The sun is high, the ground is loose, the grass is new
There’s nothing there at all
 
And all was all we did
 
The air is heavy, the sky is blue, and I’m confused
The only logic I ever knew is of no use
In vacant lots with dusty shoes, we found things to do
There’s nothing there at all