A Pocket Full of Laughing Shoestrings by Anonymous Roberto           I dance up waking. The washroom rings the doorbell           of my heart. (...) Scrub, scrub, scrub. I exfoliate with           plunging stock market quotes. The shower is no match           for my umbrella, though it does open theatrical shower           curtains. Let the show begin!           Toaster Man... he hands me his toast. Wow! Its crunch           ignites a mudslide! Shamelessly, my shoes flee before           I do. (Can't teach old treads new tricks.) (...) Boom,           boom, boom...           The road dances like a happy worm. (...) Pedestrians           slouch by with sad faces bigger than their heads. Trash           cans get muchies for memos, brochures, business cards,           political journals, television guides, receipts, and bank           statements. (...) My trousers hijack my signature dance           moves.           I pawn off my cares. These pair of legs provide me with           enough happiness. (...) Mailboxes, street lights, public           phones, windmills, wind sounds, road turtles, fall leaves,           dust devils, and imaginations dance, laugh, dance, and...           laugh about dancing, and dance about laughing.           Boom, boom, boom. My heartbeat ignites a woodland           dance party. Like confetti, they drop snails, acorns, rain           drops, sweat drops, and issues. The sky gets the word           and strobes us down with bolts as she sips down her           energy drink.