I remember the day we first met. In the doorway of that tiny boutique with the leadlight windows on the corner of Main and Wharf. You looked expensive, all laced-up leather and felted wool, commando meets catwalk. Your friend was in stitches about something, and it was when you turned to her and stuck out your pretty tongue - then, right then - that was the moment that I decided you were going to be mine.

I put aside my embarrassment and guilt. I ignored the whisperings of my empty wallet, and the thought of what my flatties would say in the morning. I picked you both up and took you home. Two for the price of one.

Ten years later, both of you are still around. Not quite as streamlined and sassy as you used to be. Your souls - my bad - soles are in need of repair, your white stitching has blackened, and your brass eyelets are looking a little worse for wear. But we’ve walked miles haven’t we? You, me, and your mirror image - BFFF - Best Feet Forward Forever.

Spin me some velvet,
Scuff me over with gravel,
Pick me some bluesy strings;
Tie me a bunch of wildflower quavers,
Let’s hear how your phoney sax sings.

Dip me in treacle,
Needle me with soul,
Groove me some dirt and some bass;
******* your ***** devil’s pipe strong,
Let’s play us some bourbon and lace.

Spin me some velvet,
Scuff me over with gravel,
Lay me down in meadowsong;
Rent me a dime’s worth of old dust and daydreams,
Honey chil’, you cain’t do me no wrong.

The mountain is deeper than it is high.

Copyright 2019 Tod Howard Hawks