When your slippers are basically jars,
these are excellent corn pads: five stars!
Still, they don’t do a thing (I should know)
to combat fungal growth on each toe;
bunions, blisters, and boils of all sorts;
or neuroma, fasciitis, and warts.
“You need footwear that cushions,” I tell her,
“and that breathes!” (I don’t say I can smell her.)
“Charming loves these,” the princess replies.
“Even more than my boobies or thighs,
he insists that my feet –“shod yet bare!” –
are the parts that excite him down there;
he’s a “foot man” (he laughs at his joke
with its whisper of commoner folk).
So my tootsies are achy and wettish?
What’s my comfort compared to his fetish?”
A lost cause! Plus, she’s started a fad‒
there are no pints of jam to be had,
and no bottles of syrup or booze,
now that glass is used mainly for shoes.
My one hope? Her beloved Fairy G.
has informed me that, for a small fee,
she’s got spells to convince royal psyches
there is nothing more kinky than Nikes.