Friday, September 14, 2012


Tender and tough
in places able to stand the heat
of the summer sidewalk
or traverse the sticker patch
without pain

Something akin
to the magician's trick
of walking on nails
or through fire

Dirty and scuffed making tracks
across the linoleum
or squished in the mud
of an irrigation ditch

Toes trained to grip
the bark and branches
for higher purchase
among the leaves
or peddling
a bicycle as fast as it would go

Put your shoes on
a hated refrain
Shedding socks
and shoes swiftly and soon
in order to feel the grass tickle
bare soles

Some traditions say
we breathe
through our soles
and covering our feet means
being blindfolded
to life

In my childhood
I knew this tribe of souls

And still
in spite of cultivation
my first instinct
strip naked
from the ankles

Setting myself free.

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