Hello, My Name Is...
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My name used to be
Shade
Roomfuls of strange hands
Pale naked show.
Secretly, I knew my name was
Blackberry, sweet
With honeyed drips of money tips
Coin in hand,
Tear-stained lips
My real name was
Shame.
In my dream my name was
A halo
A smooth surface
Reflecting netted clouds.
Inside my name spin
Flowers and incense,
Luminescent Medusa,
Tomato-red moon.
My real name is
Velvet,
Smoky soft,
Cashmere soft
Amethyst,
Plush and crushed,
Quiet and
Still.

--Shady

(I am definitely not much of a poet, but I have dabbled in it (emphasis on the dabble!) For some reason, this one just sprung out of my head one day (few years ago) and I always liked it. Why am I posting it now? I have no idea. But it probably represents the inner workings of my odd little brain more than any metered, sonneted, proper 'poem' I ever tried to write...)

...and now, a totally random icon:

I ♥ my Chuck Taylor All Star Converse...



They have clung to my wee feet faithfully all these years, like the footy-equivalent of a teddy bear hug. Once, they were stark, black and white, crisp. Now they are faded, decorated with smudge marks and scuffs and the random markings of a million different sands and soils and wooded paths. They have taken me far.

So the ALL*STAR logo on their little back heels has weathered some. The right one now says 'ALL*STAP'. The left- 'ALL*STAB'. Germy-sounding and psycho-killerish. I don't care. They have evolved.

Their somehow-cute skull shoelaces give them attitude. Their dirt & grime make them mine. They were my dream sneakers as a teenager but Mom said they were too expensive. The generic Converse-esque copycats never felt quite the same. Getting my own, genuine pair was a long-delayed teen dream come true.

My cat Sabre had an obsession with them when he was all kitteny. Maybe he liked the rubbery softness of the toes? Whatever the case, he used to nap on my feet when I wore them. Now he is too mature for such things. But one of my favorite Sabsie-pics ever still remains to remind me, always, of our cuddly Converse days.

My Chucks are getting older now. They have molded into perfect contour of my feet. They have carried me through spooky cemeteries and into abandoned places... across the neon-drenched asphalt in NYC and the dusty desert roads of my Texas hometown... they have looked cute with ratty jeans and with polky-dotted skirts, with fishnets and funny socks, they have adapted to fit me and my life no matter what the phase.

Their simple low-top loyalty will always be repaid. I think I will wear them til they fall off of my feet.

I ♥ my Chuck Taylor All Star Converse...

The End.

...and now, a totally random icon: