Fabulous, beauteous stilettos perched on display
I would for you, give up most of my pay.
Studded or suede or patent or shiny
My feet would look ever so sleek and so tiny.
A pencil thin heel, a pointed toe
If I bought you, just where might I go?
There’s that new bistro that’s too trendy and hip
except I don’t have enough cash for the tip.
I might make my coworkers jealous as I strut around
But with 5-inch heels, I would sit mostly down.
Feigning a high fashion model’s cool attitude
I’d be pouty and sexy and a little bit rude.
With chic stiletto dreams, I hem and I haw
There’s so high, it’s possible I might even fall.
Do I care? No! No! These shoes are a must!
I know they won’t sit in the closet gathering dust.
Nothin’ says fun like a heel that’s sky-high
And every girl knows they catch a man’s eye.
I purchase the footwear for the life I wish I had
And that’s not so bad…
As long as I am still stiletto clad!
OK, OK, I know it’s a bad poem, but there’s a novel link. In The Merkabah Recruit, the heroine has a closet full of sexy shoes she never wears–and her sister is always “borrowing” them.