Her Shoes at My Door (poem)

The Novel Woman



This morning I saw her tango shoes at my door.
I lost my senses for a moment.
"Maybe I could keep them.
They look good at my door."
I thought.


I reluctantly decided to give them back.
She had left them at the milonga last night.
I drove by and dropped them off.
"Shoe delivery!"
I said.


She, her husband, the dogs, the cat and I
Talked for a while.
But my mind wandered for a while
Back to the shoes by my door
To a pretend world, a woman in my life.
She was upstairs watching a tango video,
Telling me to come upstairs.
To see.


She just took a shower.
I felt her presence, good to have her here.
I was fooling myself that I could live without her.
I told myself.

Yes, I was fooling myself.
I had to give the shoes back.
No woman upstairs,
Freshly out of the shower,
Talking to her dog, as if he understood,
Swooning over a tango film clip
On the computer screen.

My shoes sit now alone at the door.
I wonder if they are angry at me.

Her shoes told me more about myself
Than I was ready for this morning.
The novel woman,
A fiction written
Just for me.
By a lonely heart.





Photo credit:
Anonymous Austin Photographer
"Los Zapatos Abandonados"