To the lady wearing two different shoes

6 in the morning

Portland Oregon

I'm sipping Pike Place coffee

 (with cream)

The city is waking up

The brick sidewalk is busy in front of the glass

Cars, busses, and parked taxis fill the narrow downtown streets

The pedestrians do that sideways glance

   wanting to see who is behind the glass

   but fearing real eye contact

There are all kinds of people walking past

    pants hanging low

    wobbly heels fighting with the bricks

    a grandpa, ear plugs, jogs by

Then a woman with an air of grace walks by

Black shawl wrapped around her, matching hat still shows some grey

She has a walker, but it might as well be an umbrella for the way she handles it

Then I notice her feet

Two completely different shoes

    left foot is an old beige nurse’s shoe (S.A.S still makes these)

    right foot is a denim flat with a silver buckle

I don't know her story

Is she among the homeless I’ve seen in the city

  camped out in doorways and underpasses

Maybe it is crazy shoe day at her granddaughter’s second grade class

   and she gets to come for lunch

Hell, just maybe, she likes to wear them that way

What I do know is that I saw you
   with your two different shoes

You inspired me to write this poem

(Which I know you may never read)

It is now 6:30 a.m.

In Portland, Oregon

And I am hoping I meet the woman with two different shoes in heaven