Broken Flip Flops

I walk barefoot to the parking garage.

I have a lifetime of practice--

I never wore shoes, a true Appalachian child,

and now Meg requires midnight barefoot walks.

Good intentions and scotch tape is not enough

Campus store does not carry replacements.

What good is an inconvenient convenience store? 

Amazing the details I notice

when my soles on the line

glittering glass

nondescript pebbles

resilient weeds

discarded water bottles

forgotten hair ties

Cool relief of shade could not come fast enough,

the grass a boon to my burning feet.

I would have stayed but 

the noise and exhaust drove me on to

silky smooth concrete steps

of the parking garage.

Did you know that the gas pedal is textured?

Or that car mats on the driver’s side have hooks?

Meg welcomes me home and we sit under our pagan tree

listening to birds and rush hour traffic on the other side of our woods.

She tells me she can tell when rain is coming by the smell in the air.

I tell her that there’s a smell afterwards too. 

-Melissa Reynolds