Shoes in the airport and other observations

Standard

espadrilles, slingbacks, Birkenstocks, heels

flip-flops thwapping, wedges clapping

thick rubber soles for those always standing

slip-ons to slide through security

 

neon yellow sneakers

preppie red topsiders

denim blue nubucks

green Nikes, green shirt, green hair

 

lace-up boots and a beret

cowboy boots and a mini

calf-high boots and a scarf

army boots and a mission

 

strollers with little feet dangling

strawberry ankle-strap sandals

tiger-face rollerbag

floppy grimy duck

 

flight attendant’s skirt so tight her pockets gape

lumpy teen’s shorts so short her undies show

obese woman’s wheelchair braced like a baggage cart

mama’s tight pants with a belly bulging out

 

mirrored sunglasses slung backward from the ears

uniforms of khakis and polos and backpacks

Bluetooth headset, Blackberry clipped to the belt

hard-soled, long-toed, Italian leather loafers

 

(click, click, click)

 

all of us pieces of ego and oddness

and still somebody claims us

***

Harry Burns: You take someone to the airport, it’s clearly the beginning of the relationship. That’s why I have never taken anyone to the airport at the beginning of a relationship.
Sally Albright: Why?
Harry Burns: Because eventually things move on and you don’t take someone to the airport and I never wanted anyone to say to me, How come you never take me to the airport anymore?
Sally Albright: It’s amazing. You look like a normal person, but actually you are the angel of death. (When Harry Met Sally)

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