barefoot sneakers
they didn't fit anyway

-

we walked finger-in-finger
down the street—your
sharpie covered sneakers
were the harmony to
my clicking high heels. you
glanced down at my strappy
shoes, an amused expression
curling your flawless lips. i
sigh and sling the stupid
sandals off; the concrete
scratching at my bare feet.

(i didn't tell you how nice it felt.)

the heels dangle from your
fingers before you
toss them lightly over
the edge of the bridge. i watch
them collide with the gray water
(not)sparkling below.
"you don't mind?" you ask,
gauging my expression. i shrug,
glancing over at you once again.

(they weren't my size anyway.)

-

2/22