The Many Shoes of Marty Smith
I remember her,
when we were very little,
walking so fast,
my sister and I
struggling
to keep up,
in those high heels,
clicking on the sidewalk,
not waiting for traffic lights,
leaving us far behind,
trying to catch up.
She could dance
in high heels,
even The Charleston.
It’s hard not to think that Swifties are secretly rooting for a divorce within seven years. Think of how incredibly mediocre that album will be.