They don’t really match with much,

Save my mood and the gully

Button down aloha shirts

Over sweaty tees, jeans, and such.


They’ve got a hole just above the foxing stripe,

From sloppy ollies that lack the height

To pop up curbs,

To impress girls

Or guys . . .


The waffled outsole lacks its dents

From bike pedals and hot cement.

Flat spots just below my toes

And as time passes these spots grow.


The outsole, once pristine and pale,

Now peppered over with grey and black.

A result of loiter sessions on bike trails,

Bikes thrown to the dirt without a rack.


Find them in a parking lot,

Or lying in a lawn.

Each scuff is a memory

I’ll hold until I’m gone.  





Photo Credits: Aaron Almeida


Written by

Aaron Almeida

Aaron Almeida, junior, has always needed a creative outlet, and since he sucks at art, writing is a great way for him to do that. He enjoys writing poetry and creative pieces, although pieces based on his hobbies also interest him. When Aaron isn’t doing homework, he likes listening to music, skating, biking, and sitting in his room alone. He enjoys partaking in cardio based pain, more commonly known as cross country. Aaron’s favorite book is The Road by Cormac McCarthy.