Talking to the Sidewalk

Talking To the Sidewalk
by Gwenyth Wheat

My cousin once tried to teach me how to strut

down the aisle at church on Christmas Eve in her black boots,

coat, tights, eyeliner making everyone wonder the value

they’d place on mystery if it was in a box with a bow

under the tree tomorrow morning. And I got my own pair

the next day because I couldn’t wait to spoon feed

my gait a shot of espresso. I want to stomp around the world

in my black boots from Target that make me look like

I’m from the Matrix and make me harness confidence

rising from my chunky heel stamping I was made for this moment

on pavement. I used to avoid cracks jumping over them

in twinkle toe tennis shoes. Now my toes could be steel under these

boots made for a runway and someone tried to teach me

how to model walk across our middle school math classroom before

and I want this to be casual. I want this to be cool.

I want to think there’s a kiss of chaos under what’s collected.

I like to wear my power boots to coffee shops

so I can be a tall order too, movie theaters blending in

so I can be a puppet too crushing popcorn and glistens of

sugar dresses in black boots too because doesn’t everything sweet

have a little edge? And isn’t that what makes me a mystery?

And someone once told me the key is to walk like you’re fashion

that will always be relevant.