I wake up longing for the sleek brown boots
I had in my twenties,
their suede as soft as baby seals
their heels so high I listed forward
like an unstable tower.
Balancing on those narrow peaks,
I swayed through town in a pair of jeans
sure that I could take what I wanted,
sure that nothing would be taken from me.
Okay, the truth is I only pulled out
those silly boots a few times.
But how I miss knowing they were there
in the back of the closet
ready to stomp, to dance–
huddling together in the dark,
mute and hungry as forever.
~Patry Francis, Waitress Poems