I like his feet

and this makes a grin

for who but I would notice

and find delight

in such a thing?

I like the sculpting of them

the way the veins peep

and travel

like the river nile.

The way the arch curls

and makes my fingers itch to tickle

cause giggles and playful embraces.

I look at the way they rest, so content upon a table

framed by denim and cleverly smooth

and unassuming

never giving a hint

of the hard business they do

keeping him going

from place to place

dream to dream

until their twin labors are rewarded

with a contented sigh

and a convenient resting place

and freedom from confining socks

to blissfully twitch and settle

ever so happily

on a nearby surface.

his feet reveal

contentment

in his very pose.

I like his feet

they encapsulate so much

that is his definition.

fetish?

that carry him
when he bears her
sure and precise
in dance and acceleration
instruments of swiftness
of flight, pursuit and pounce

um, no.