there's a reason cinderella had new slippers

i was going to write about shoes, but then a black moth flew through the open bathroom window,
past the white curtains, wings sliding across the curl of open screen,
and the day was still sitting on the butterfly bushes,
the sun just beginning to entertain thoughts of the moon,
and a dove, i think, began to call,
though sometimes they sound like owls and i get confused,
and by then i was barefoot with toenails painted i pink i can,
and shoes seemed unimportant with summertime teasing in that way she does.

but there's a reason cinderella had new slippers and there's a reason for dorothy's ruby reds

and there's a reason we paint our toenails suzi & the lifeguard or frankly scarlet,

and i think it's called magic.

i think it's called adventures await.

new shoes = who knows what will happen?, and

old shoes = comfort and i know this road, and

bare feet with a tickle of color on our toes = joy you betcha baby mmhmmm.

magical object thinking, yes, but objects have only the magic we give them

and when we put those wings on our feet, we fly,
past the white curtains into the day still waiting for us,
into the night.

i saved only one pair of my mother's shoes and they are abracadabras if ever you've seen any,
slippers that took her who knows where -
i never saw her wear them -
but when i saw them amongst her everydays and flipflops and proper church heels,
i smiled.
she had a secret, i thought.
she flew.

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