You might do this when you get here, if you didn’t walk or skate An open place of memories dear, where children congregate

Piercing in tone, More Callas than Bocelli, Your throat holds your song, Mine seethes in my belly

Avast, ye scallywags! I be a parley, a price's free fall, A verbal duel 'til one gives their all. Less wit o' machine, more grit in yer teeth, What be I, where bargains ye seek underneath?

I shimmer, I vanish, I barely stay, I can light up the dark, then fade away.

Five nails go into me, they all remain seen. I can also be a wood. The scent is fresh and clean. My name starts grainy: coarse, rough, getting everywhere. Without my straps, I'd be a lone sole. Your feet would be left bare.