So, spring is great, warmer weather, melting snow, yeah, yeah, everyone's thrilled. BUT, there is this phenomenon, especially in the northern USA, that can be disconcerting. It is one of those raw and explicit nature things. You know it happens, you just maybe don't want to see it. Everyone sheds their winter clothes to display their supple toes and legs and upper arms. In the case of white people, everything's also all pale and pasty. Gross.
I wrote this several years ago about the rare organism that erupts from this metamorphosis already in full splendor. After all the first-time flip flops I saw yesterday, this thought helps.
The only way to successfully walk on ice
is to have the confidence you will not fall.
I’ve seen it.
I’ve seen the double-takes
follow her in instinctual waves.
She catches every eye twice.
Cold March froze its own rain,
the sidewalks are treacherous,
but she is grace in polar fleece.
Sex in mittens.
sacrificed gender to scarves and ski jackets,
discarded male and female in the snow bank.
She found it all,
and although we may be warm in our down
her winter wear radiates heat that permeates
everyone’s Gore-tex shells.
I watch her step, step
confident of her footing
glance down, glance out
caring, but not looking like she cares
knowing she looks good, but not looking like
she knows she looks good.
I think of my morning.
Six minute shower, two minute toothpaste,
Thirty second hair gel,
her cheek alone must have taken an hour and a half
her calf would have needed at least two months
and I assume she spent about three years on that wrist.
I got up at 7:30.
She must have gotten up in 1992.
It shows, and she’s showing it to whoever cares to look
a runway model on a skating rink
and, you know,
with all the frocks and drapes
all the casings and coverings
it is the confidence
because I bet she looks best in pajamas.
High heel challenge level #4 - Cobblestones