The Old Lady and her Shoe

today she weeps in such a way
there are no tears ever found upon her dress,
on the cheeks below her eyes,
or on the hardwood floor.
according to accounts, she once drove a car
far into the night, into the early morning hours
they even said.
at her side was a favored pocketbook she could use
for shopping, if a store's lights might appear at 3 am
on any lonely rural road.
they never did, even as she neared the gulf coast
out of gas, drifting to a standstill.
according to accounts, on another trip she veered off the asphalt
and hit a fence, taking out a telephone pole, smashing
her Honda Accord so that it was deemed a total wreck.
she suffered a slight knee injury which, according to accounts,
required a few small stitches and anti-biotic.
contrary to her widespread belief, she could no longer play the
card game Bridge, or even Blitz.
her family decided to confiscate her license.
soon it was said she lived in a place without color, but her fingernails
remained powerfully red.
inside her new room were placed many family photographs, but she struggled to
identify the faces, naming only a few.
imagine her satisfaction when an idea came to her!
she looked comfortable in her wheelchair, in the new
room which was decorated to resemble an old room from her former life.
these days, according to accounts, she remembers her own name
and not much else.
although she has plenty of shoes, her left foot is swollen, sensitive,
and usually wrapped in a thick blue sock.
her right foot wears the shoe, usually a sneaker.
and she is finally living a modest existence, one she never dreamed of
as a young girl.