Firehouse

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The red polish on her toes was named Firehouse, and that was the reason she’d picked it up at the dollar store. She wanted to feel alive, wanted to feel like her energy was on fire. The morning she left for her new life she had folded herself into a pretzel to carefully apply the lacquer to all ten toes before leaning back against the wall to admire her handiwork.

When the polish was dry, she slipped on the first pair of pants she grabbed from the closet, those baggy white and navy print things that were so comfortable to lounge around in. She laughed aloud, because if only one thing was going to change, it was the amount of lounging around the house she was going to do from here on out. Still, those pants were comfy. And they happened to match the white tank top she was already wearing, sans bra, so she went with it.

Today was a day of fate, and fate might as well control her wardrobe choices as well.

Except for the shoes. She already knew she was going to wear her strappy red sandals, because they’d lain neglected and alone in the back of the closet for far too long. Those were coming on this trip, like it or not. She checked to make sure her toenails were completely dry and then struggled to stretch those straps just the tiniest bit that was necessary for a proper fit.

Buckles done and duffel bag over her shoulder, she didn’t even bother to say goodbye to the place she’d lived with her boyfriend for the past six years. Why should she? It wasn’t like she had a chance to say goodbye when he was in that accident.

She didn’t lock the door behind her as she put her best foot forward on her way to the bus stop and the beginning of her new life.

When the bus arrived, she showed her ticket to the driver and found a spot among the rows of empty seats. They weren’t empty for long; it looked as if nearly every seat would be taken with the mass of people waiting for this very bus.

Within minutes she found herself pressed against the window by an old woman with a shockingly large purse. She absentmindedly wondered how the small woman managed to carry such a monstrous bag.before turning to stare out the window, blocking out the present and focusing on the future.

She wiggled her Firehouse toes in her firehouse sandals and smiled at the thought of better days to come. Endless numbers of better days.


Cold, Concrete Poem, Anaphora/Epistrophe

It’s the middle
Of the night
My toes are
Cold, so cold
I flipped the cover down
To cover them
Because they were
Cold, so cold
I tucked them in
In the pocket I made
But they were still
Cold, so cold
I twisted and turned
To warm them
But they were still
Cold, so cold

They never warmed
I can’t sleep in socks


Another Sandal

  

Last night (at work, don’t tell!) I hopped on over and picked up some new work sandals. It is so nice to let my feet breathe while I’m on them for hours at a time. It’s amazing how much cooler I feel with some air on my toes.