I Love My Red Shoes

I step outside to see how many leaves are on the patio.

It’s not too bad, actually

This time of year many of the trees around take a nap. They slumber and twitch and lose their leaves. It’s a signal that soon,

heat is coming.

I pull my hands up around the laminated pillar as I peer down at the temple below. Stretch my arms behind me, opening my back and shoulders

Ooof

That feels good

I hold and try to breathe deeply,

And while I’m doing so peer down towards my toes and am confronted with

cherry toes.

Nah, blood orange toes.

Both feet.

At first I’m flummoxed, trying to figure out what’s going on.

Am I bleeding?

Is this gout?

Did I step in something?

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I love my red shoes.

I love my red shoes.

I love my red shoes.

Oh, no! I must have stepped in a pile of…

I really do love them. Sleek, comfortable, they swallow up my feet, light and airy.

But they’re very, very red.

And, apparently, when I get them wet, the red makes its way

Through my socks

Into my nails

And deep, deep into my skin.

And, rather than worry, I embrace the novelty.

I love my red toes.

I love my red toes.

I love my red, red, red, toes.

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