Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Flop Ode

I've been thinking lately that it might be time to finally get rid of my favorite flip-flops that I've had for eons. They've lost all tread - making them quite dangerous in wet weather - and the comfy cushioning, which I once cherished, is all but gone. But I can't seem to put them in the trash without being overcome by a state of despondence. I started to ponder the life of my flip-flops and how many places they've taken me, and I realized just how emotionally attached I am to them. They might be the thing in my wardrobe that I am most attached too, as a matter of fact. I couldn't help but remember a wonderful poem by my favorite poet, Pablo Neruda called "Ode to My Socks". So, using his poem as a template, I created my own ode...


Ode to My Flops

J. Crew sent me

A pair of flops

Which I ordered myself

With my modern computer,

Two flops as light as air.

I slipped my feet into them

As if they were socks

Knitted with threats of air and water.

My feet were two fish free at sea,

The flops, two soft blackbirds,

Which cradled me as we flew away

My feet were honored in this way

By these heavenly flops.

They were so perfect for the first time

My feet seemed unacceptable

Like two pale slivers unworthy of

Of the glorious roundness

Of the soft, glowing flops.

Nevertheless, I resisted the temptation

To save them somewhere as schoolgirls

Keep stickers,

As mature women keep

Dusty trinkets,

I resisted the impulse to put them

In a golden cage and feed them

Chocolate covered blueberries.

Like wedding guests at a reception

Who dig in to the complicated confection

Of a wedding cake and eat it with remorse

I slid my feet in and went on my journeys

To ballparks and concerts, movies and beaches

As my flops bore witness to love and anger

Tears and elation

at home and in far away lands,

Always there for me

Providing comfort at every turn,

Ease, every step of the way.

The moral of my ode is this:

Beauty is twice beauty

And what is good is doubly good

When it’s a matter of two flops

Made of foam in summer.







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