Eat My Foot

stilettos - my memory walks on shoes - the 60s platform shoes, the high heeled ones, those floating on cork, the click clacking clogs, and the rest that propel our fun out of the cruise of our feet on the dance floor, ballet twirl, on a mountain slope in getting that life saving grip, in the arctic and as one walks down the aisle to a life of bliss the memory lines up thick on the house shoe rack where we chucked our school going ones as soon as we reached home they were always near the stairs wherever we had stayed - ever ready to oil our pirouttee as we turn like angels seeking out another life walk us into another wonderland. the shoes were interspearsed between aunty's and mom's more adventurous ones when she was out on a limb on the bridge of life lack clack clack, thud, thud, thud, the way mom and aunties had always wanted to sound proud on the harsh ground of the street clack, clack, clack, on the verandah and when I was braver - I was only three or four - clack, clack, clack how light the body was in some of the fancy shoes stilettos especially that lightly put me on a flight to another world on their steady solid stumps nobody could deprive me of these other worlds if really someone had taken me by the hands and rolled them off my little feet i would have kicked a fuss so that those shoes walk the ceiling and i would shove my little feet in again while rubbing off the tears that had rolled down my cheeks clack, clack, clack the echoes of childhood where the weight of the body is lighter than sound the world colourless borderless and unisex my body and soul kicked in the sky of thoughts