Leather,
or faux kinds, the smooth layer
displays cracks,
like the eyes on a human near the end
with grin taut and lids close,
together
their age reveals the steps between
birth and production,
and this passing moment, where
one has spotted, delving into a world
of movement, it measured
distance and gait striding with
determination or perhaps pulled
by time,
positions on x and y
as specified through z,
never stopping and orbiting on.
Just material, just soft and squashed
and gentle against toes,
arches raise over fabric shadows
cushioned and contained
and squeezing.