Oliver Fiddlewick

Oliver Fiddlewick, from just down the street,
Has an awful obsession with teenager's feet.
Through school lockers and cubbies, without one single care,
He searches for shoes, lifting up history books and red underwear.
His route home is on foot paths through Cherrydale park,
Where he'll watch the kids play, until it gets dark.
Upon getting home, he emptys his pants and coat pockets,
Shoes and socks plop out, like fish from old Lock Ness.
And he carries this bundle to foot room number 7,
Where there's more white socks, then in little sock heaven.
More shoes than they've got at any Foot Locker;
Twin pairs of Jordans, and a Rainbow of Crockers.
But his night does not end with this footwear deposit,
He continues to a dark room, where he makes his composites.
Here he takes film from his camera, in eerie red light
And develops his pictures, which takes most of the night.
Pictures of toes, and purple polka dot toe nails,
Pictures of feet running up and down bike trails.
Feet, shoe, and sock, not a child was missed,
He gathers a few of his favorites and gives them a kiss.
Then at 3 in the morn, Oliver sleeps,
And has old man dreams about teenager's feet.