Speaking of Shoes
She wore brightly colored shoes
that I couldn’t help but notice.
I couldn’t help but stare at them,
watch them intently with every step
both she and I took.
I was about ten yards behind her
walking a similar pace.
It was difficult to manage
because my legs are significantly longer.
However,
I was assured that she wouldn’t notice me,
not even if she looked back,
because my eyes were so fixated on her shoes,
so drawn to the explosion of colors,
the kaleidoscope of colors emanating,
that she would think I was just looking at the ground.
I was so fixated
that I couldn’t help but notice,
I couldn’t help but realize she had stopped.
I just kept watching, wondering how the colors
kept creeping closer to my vision,
until I walked right into her.
She was hideous,
nothing compared to the beauty of her shoes,
and she tried to confront me.
I said nothing and kept walking,
staring down towards the ground
waiting for the next treasure,
but still thinking of those shoes.
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