white
feet up to the sock line
tan
legs from ankles to shorts
too
long shrouded from the river
an ode to my feet is taught
odorless
and not too sweet
walking
with them cannot be beat
and
when peddling away
let
me repeat
there
is no better way for us to meet
this
may sound flat-footed so to speak
but
i have a ball with the sole of my feet
never
a heel in the agony of defeat
look
a little closer at my tootsies
as
they bake in the Taichung sun
the
crooked pointer toes
bent
from years of tight-fitted shoes
leaning
away from the thumb toe grows
that
is how the story goes
what
will become of the fungus nail
that
the poor left thumb toe must bear
with
flip-flops on for all to see
i
do not have vanity or care
in
Taiwan’s open-footed trends
all-season
naked to their friends
come
out smelling like roses
the
other end of peoples’ noses
and
any angle from a chair
my
pair look quite complete
like
any other pair i meet
but
my pair grow no hair
none
i would care to tweet
i
walk them here, i walk them there
down
busy city streets for hours
up
mountain trails
wet in swimming pools
steamed
in saunas or soaped in showers
bound
in Chuck Taylors
inside
multi-colored Cons
laced
tightly ‘round the ankles
kept
from tangling bicycle pedals
in
socks tucked folded down
spinning
inches from the ground
my
feet are safe and sound
tortured
not by jogging pound
this
is how i get around
barefoot
strolls in Taiwan summer
no
danger here of broken glass
but
beware of bites from strangers
hiding
in the weeds and grass
and
when sore feet need therapy
to blind men in the Taipei metro go
acupuncture
from masseuses
or
do it myself rubbing slow
though
some may think that too retro
from
footbath to footpath run
from
ocean to burning sand
between
my toes on a blanket goes
kicking
out the jams
on
a beach chair tap a tune
or
dancing with my mama
around
the living room
only
feet appreciate
a
foot would understand
no
marching off to war for them
that
is where i make my stand
on
the sacred home ground
side-stepping
goose-stepping
my
partner’s feet unbound
rubbing
her toes tenderly
wiggling
and tickling her
and
pinching her hounds
when
no one is around
walking
knee-deep down a river
sliding
on pebbles, slipping on stones
in the coolness of a emerald quarry pond
dive feet of tired bones
or immersed in a mountain stream
an aboriginal dream
through a forest of lush green ink
but when there is no natural setting
bathe
them in a sink
July
4, 2017
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