One Good Shoe Deserves Another

Whenever I see an abandoned shoe in the middle of an intersection the first thought that comes to mind, naturally, is "Where's the other one?" Sometimes you see a pair of them dangling from an electrical wire, but when it comes to the streets, seems like it's always a lone shoe, generally a canvas Converse hightop either navy or dirty white and it's been sort of flattened by traffic. Somewhere along that route is a young man limping along who either doesn't know he stepped out of half his footwear or doesn't care. It takes a special kind of individual to leave a single shoe behind. Especially in the middle of a busy intersection. I'm thinking maybe he sprinted through and feared getting caught by the pigs for jaywalking. I call the pigs pigs out of affection, by the way. Sometimes I refer to them as the fuzz or the heat. But I like pigs best. Pigs are cute! And ever so smart. I lost a shoe once, early in life, under much more dire circumstances. School field trip, me in my Buster Browns, somewhere on a muddy path in the woods. One misstep and I was ankle-deep in muck. I had to give it up or die of starvation. But generally there's no muck in an intersection. Maybe the shoe fell off a truck. Kind of like how a friend of mine gets her Percocet. When I moved to college, I was buzzing up 127 on my way to MSU with big plans for getting smarter and learning how to party. My pick-up was chock-full of boxes and crap you need in college. I actually watched in the rearview mirror one of the boxes flip open and the toe of my only pair of nude control top hosiery sneak out and start flappin' in the breeze. 70 mph it was only a matter of seconds before both legs made an appearance and then as I sucked in a helpless breath, the whole pair shot out and spread-eagled the guy behind me's windshield. To his credit, he held the road and calmly turned on his wipers. Who trains for that? I'm glad it wasn't a shoe, because if a bird can take down a plane, I'm pretty sure a low heel through the windshield can stop a car. Of course, you're wondering why I would need hosiery in college. What can I say, it was the 80's and not all of us were perpetually tan or stylish. Plus the whole bank-robbing thing was really hot. In the end, someone must be claiming the shoes left behind, because they aren't in the street forever. You might see one on your way to work for a couple of days in a row, then all of a sudden, no more shoe. I wish socks worked that way. I have single socks who lost their mates in the dryer years ago that I can't shake. They just keep re-surfacing, trying to hook up with socks that ain't their same kind. Maybe I should put them in a box, strap it to the top of my car and hit the highway. The world is my closet!