Today, I saw a girl.
She was wearing a brown striped dress
just like the one I wore to
my uncle’s wedding when I was 11.
Except that hers was filled out
in places mine was not.
She hurried down the street
with an empty water bottle
and a black duffle bag
awkwardly slung over her shoulder
instead of the usual backpack
used by students from
Penn State to Berkeley.
Her shoes, brown sandals,
had a high wooden platform heel
that made her walking seem
much like a horse’s gait
only more painful…less graceful.
She was pretty, I guess.
I didn’t see her face.
I was too busy looking at the shoes and
the band-aids hiding blisters on her ankles.