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To the woman wearing two different shoes

Jamey Boelhower

6 in the morning
Portland Oregon
I’m sipping Pikes Place coffee
        (with cream)
The city is waking up
The brick sidewalk is busy in front of me
Cars, buses, and parked taxis fill the narrow downtown streets
The pedestrians do that sideways glance
        wanting to see who is behind the glass
        but fearing real eye contact
There are all kinds of people walking
        pants hanging low
        wobbly heels fighting with the bricks
        a grandpa, ear plugs, jogs by

Then a woman with an air of grace appears on the sidewalk
Black shawl wrapped around her, matching hat still shows some grey
She has a walker, but it might as well be an umbrella for the way she handles it
Then I notice her feet
Two completely different shoes
        left foot is an old beige nurse’s shoe (SAS still makes these)
        right foot is a denim flat with a silver buckle

I don’t know her story
Is she among the homeless I’ve seen in the city
        camped out in doorways and underpasses
Maybe it is crazy shoe day at her granddaughter’s second grade class
        and she gets to come for lunch
Hell, just maybe, she likes to wear them that way
What I do know is that I saw you
You inspired me to write this poem
(Which I know you may never read)
It is now 6:30 a.m.
In Portland, Oregon
And I am hoping I meet the woman with two different shoes in heaven

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