Friday, January 17, 2014


How do I put my best foot forward if my left one is numb and my right one is wearing a shoe a size too small? I guess this is one of those times when I must choose the best of the worst. Still, these feet have moved me from place to place, from love to heartache, from lakes to deserts rich with bare bones. Still, I cannot choose. Still, I wonder if I'd be better off with talons instead of toes. Still, the numbness may never go away.

So I stay. I refuse to move unless I can bribe someone else to clean up my mess. And it's just one mess, comprised of tragically beautiful teeny messes. I invest in my injury and call it nobility. I deny my delight and call it humility. I call out to a self still cemented in the ephemeral.

I haven't figured it out yet. I haven't mastered the art of the gait in which the body vaults over the stiff limbs. The key, unknown to me, is that only one foot at a time leaves contact with the ground. There is a period of double-support.

I fly solo. No, not fly. Crawl. Limp. Remain.

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