by David Rodriguez
I’m never replacing my shoes.
These blue vegans may have
hallux holes and squeak, may
stay wet for days and seam-split
before I’ve worn the soles all the
way, but their reliability is enabling.
In them, I’m lenticular clouds high,
then Stratos, thermosphere and new
car. 300 miles up, there’s no baked
Alaska, but all of the feeling of
eating it. The shoes slip on, my
toes slow-curl into fetal position,
my heart slows. The new ones
my wife bought can stay under
the bed, box-shut and stuffed
with paper. How many times
have I said I don’t need them?
It’s not about need, she claims.
David Rodriguez is a writer and teacher based in New Orleans with an MFA from Florida State University. He has previously been published in the New Orleans Review, The Southeast Review, Hawai’i Review, Naugatuck River Review, and Viewfinder, among other places.