Like Purses

so i go into nordstrom’s to look at shoes
well, not me, my wife
i sit in the comfy cushioned chairs by the escalators
this is where they post certificates of compliance,
and men sit
i am sitting by myself
watching my wife wade through the sea of shoes
which are like reclaimed doubloons
shining brightly on the archipelago of display islands
i watch schools of women navigate their way round the reefs
like children hunting shells
ok, i have taken the nautical theme too far
one of the sales women arranges the shoes on a nearby table
she places the shoes equidistant apart
and lines them up perfectly
toe to toe to toe
she is wearing a black dress
of an unnatural fiber that zips in back
it is ill fitting
bunching at her shoulders and neck
and showing her hip fat, or muffin top - as the kids say
her shoes look uncomfortable
they are worn at the heel
an old woman approaches the chairs where i am sitting
she is tan, almost orange, and wrinkled
she sits and doesn’t see me
she has old lady smell
you know the smell,
like a flower garden, overgrown and decaying
i hear my name
my wife is calling me
she wants me to look at a pair of somethings
i nod at the old woman, but she still doesn’t see me
as i walk over to my wife
i stop at a display
a small sign says christian louboutin
i am sure i’m mispronouncing it
but i wonder if this is a real name
or a marketing ploy
‘what would jesus do, he would put the boot on’
i am sure i’m overthinking it
on this table top is a collection of similar looking shoes
they are tall, made of cork and patent leather
one is blood red with gold accents
i pick it up and look at the bottom
these are 800 dollar shoes
call me old fashioned,
but something this shiny and expensive
should be worn around your neck or wrist;
not stepping over puddles, gum, and dog shit
i see a man in a suit over in the corner,
standing with his arms crossed, watching
i go to another table and pick up a shoe
look at the bottom
700 dollars
i look around the store
no one is screaming or freaking out
or in any way reacting to the price tag
women calmly pick up a shoe, hold it at an angle, look at the bottom,
hold it at another angle
and then,
again,
in a calm fashion,
place it down
as a man, i’ve crossed the 100 dollar barrier
a few times
but these
are everywhere
and these
don’t even look comfortable
i am through the looking glass of sex and the city now;
the episode where carrie couldn’t make a down payment on a home
because of all her shoes
oh, carrie…
i look for my wife
she is at the other end of the store
perhaps i am in the deep end
with the big game fish
i sit next to my wife
and shore enough
these shoes are more reasonable
my wife straps on a pair of gladiator sandals
and says how she hates her feet
she stands and rolls up her jeans
she kicks out her leg to the side
then in front
and then to the side again
and then the inside
and then back to the front
and then one more time to the side
then she walks to a mirror
and does it all again
i don’t know, she says, i don’t think i like what they’re doing to my toes
i shrug and say, they look nice
no, i say, they look cute
i know to say shoes are cute
i don’t know, she says again, you really think they’re cute
yes, i say, yes i do
a salesman stands in front of us
he looks down at all the boxes, tissues, and wayward shoes,
which are lying on their shiny sides,
like fish
the man has slim strappy sandals in both his hands
i don’t know, my wife says, i think i have to think about it
no problem, says the shoe hand man
my wife puts on her own shoes
i tell her about the 800 dollar ones
at the other end of the store
thinking she’ll be shocked and dismayed
these, she says as her heel slips in, were 600
and it’s my shock that dismays her
her shoes are ballerina flats with no support no cushioning no steel shank
i got them for our rehearsal dinner, she says, you like them?
yes, i say, yes i do
as we leave nordstroms
we walk past the comfy cushioned chairs by the escalators
an old man is sitting next to the old woman
he smiles as we walk past
he nods at me
and i nod back
acknowledging the things we’ll never understand
like purses

(Second poem — which I never had to read because there were too many people and it got too late. Long story less complicated, Like Purses won the slam that night…)

And I Do

so i came to the bar to read a poem
it’s about shoes
it’s for my wife
she doesn’t know, it’s a surprise
but i’m late on the list and i don’t get called for the open mic
i go to the bathroom and ask mark if i can read it for the slam
he says i need two poems, do i have two poems
i say, no
he says, are you sure
i say, yes
he says, can you write one now
i say, ok, can i borrow a pen
he says, sure, but i need it back, it’s a good pen
so i try to write something down
but it’s not coming to me
and i’m all too aware what my wife must be thinking
man, he must have really had to pee
i look around the bar for inspiration
but it’s dark and i can’t see faces
i need words
against the wall in back i see
green
and
mill
and over the bar i see schlitz
that is a good word
schlitz
but i need something else
something that carries weight
and provides direction
i scan and i search and i see it
i say the word in my head
i roll it around my skull and it sticks
it gives me everything i need
EXIT
and i do