Roadside Shoes

Discarded shoes are mysterious things. More so than a deer, old tire or deep forest yeti. They come out of nowhere. One day they're here the next day they're not. Some stay for just a day or two Some hang around for months. Like a wayward uncle leeching a warm bed and cold brew. Who owned them? Why do they clog the roadside? Some look like newborn-others like death. Were they victims of a prank or just lost evidence. I once saw two red sneakers on the shoulder of a road. Just inches apart looking shiny and new. Like Dorothy's ruby studded shoes. They must have tapped their heels together. click-click-click. Because by the next morning they vanished. There's no place like home. i suppose.