no talk. just walk.

my feet

I didn’t jog this weekend.

But I walked.

In high heels.


In black devilish little pointy heel

Did I walk and walk and walk.

On wide rough concrete floor

On the slimy tiles of the supermarket

Out onto the muddy road.


The next day still I walked

and walked and walked.

Swinging my exhausted feet

wrapped in soggy rain-soaked suede pump.

Stamped on the filthy paved sidewalk

Clanking up to the steel surface of busway station

down to the vast sea of shiny marble.


And what did I gain

from tiring my feet to hell

couples of  blistered toes

peeled skin and heels?


But I do really wish I have the same spirit in life.

Swing my feet and take a plunge

and walk and walk and walk

and not just talk and talk and talk.

| from under the blanket, accompanied by chips, tea
  and blasting twisted christmas songs