Skip to content

Shoe Hangin’

August 26, 2013

Shoe-hangin'

There is no one in the city but Truck, as far as she knows.  At least, she hasn’t seen another person since she turned up here.  But occasionally there are signs that they’d been.  Like Shoe-hangin’ Alley.  That’s what she calls it; the street signs are all blank.

Power lines leap from wall to wall, high up in Shoe-hangin’ Alley, and from them shoes, all sizes and styles, flung in pairs, dangle by their laces.

Her own shoes are worn and losing their soles.  Her feet inside are stiff from walking.

Truck sits and pulls the shoes off, and then her socks. She undoes each bow, and ties the two together.

It takes fourteen tries, but she gets the hang of the throw and her shoes catch on a line. They twist around and set the rest of the pairs dancing.  She watches til they settle still again, then walks on, barefoot.

Advertisements
2 Comments leave one →
  1. August 26, 2013 2:14 pm

    Kudos to you for choosing to write about this weird urban phenomenon. There’s poetry in the very act. We see the shoes and imagine the pitching trial and error that got them there. There’s also much poetry in your wonderfully compact treatment of it here. Thanks for that.

  2. August 26, 2013 7:58 pm

    Thanks! I’ve become fascinated with the city as setting; it’s concrete and people crammed together, living and lifeless. And the people there often leave strange marks and stranger tales.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: