Old Shoes

Posted on March 1, 2004 in Possessions

I leave my shoes in strange places. When I take them off, I often do so unconsciously and desert them where I was standing or sitting. If I happen to see them afterwards, the place will find a crevice in my brain like a peregrin falcon finds a ledge in the concrete canyons of Manhattan. I can remember where to locate them then. Otherwise I must hunt them down. They turn up under the desk, at the foot of a chair, next to the front door, before the toilet, or in front of the stove.

A strange emptiness and abandonment fills me when I recover them. They look as if the person who stood in them was suddenly seized by aliens who wanted everything except these old shoes. Discover my shoes and I am unfound.