Please take off your shoes. 

I don’t know what streets

you tread and drag into my home.

What gum you stamped

or spit you squished.

What shit may be encrusted

between the crevices

of those soles. 

Please, take off your shoes. 

Did you not notice the heap of shoes

at the front door?  Because I noticed

that your dirty-ass shoes left prints

down the entirety of my hallway carpet

to the bathroom I kindly let you use. 

Take off your damn shoes. 

And please don’t shake your head

in negative condescension,

bitch and groan as if I’m breaking your back

when you reluctantly untie your sneakers

and reveal your holed socks. 

Yes, I prefer your stinky feet,

Believe it or not. 

Because this is my home you’re treading in.

My culture you are ignorantly patronizing

when you continue walking

on top of my nice clean carpet

after I’ve kindly asked you to,

“Please, take off your shoes.” 

Because I guarantee your disrespect,

condescension, and utter lack of listening skills

will come to no good.   

I will gently turn your ass around

and kick you out the fucking door.

So,

please, take off your shoes.