On the doctor's couch she says:
"When I was 9 I kissed a boy for the first time.
He went to my church and I really liked him because
He had a nice haircut and he wore good shoes.
My mama always said to me that
When I got married to make sure it was to a man
Who is clean shaven and wears good shoes.
All my life I've been running through fire
with men in sandals and men who would prefer
being half-broken-in or barefoot but
When I met my husband he had on really good shoes.
They were expensive shoes with a good sole.
Comfortable Shoes with wild rhythm and tap.
In his closet, He had a whole collection.
Shoes that he could exercise and walk in.
And even shoes that we would do much dancing in.
I bought him A custom pair one year for his birthday.
They were hand-dyed and had his
initials stitched right into the tongue.
The tread was sleek-cut and molded with arrows,
Little details to make mark of his directions,
His comings and his goings.
The inner seam was custom fitted to his foot. They fit so well that no one else could wear them.
The smile he beamed when I gifted them to him
Absolutely melted my whole heart.
And I know they were just shoes but I felt
I had truly outdone myself.
I felt I Had finally done something right."
Taking a deep breath,
she looks away but continues,
"My mother, bless her heart, was so rare and wise..
She also said to never give a man shoes. No
Matter how good he looked or how nice he behaved.
She said the same shoes you gift him are the same
He will walk away from you in..."
The doctor taps his expensive loafers against the hardwood floor and says,