The Shoe Ceremony
Wandering away from our companions,
we climbed atop Alamo Hill to photograph
the Painted Ladies against the city sky line.
We came upon a stucco, flat roofed building
with green shutters, and boarded up windows.
Stumps sinewed around it, each a platform for a shoe.
Turquoise track shoes were planted with hens and chicks
a woman's cowboy boots had onions and
midnight blue pansies inside.
Bright yellow clogs with carnations
a pair of roller skates with rosemary and
a tough orange ski boot housed a violet plant.
Nearby, an unblemished bridal pump
covered in satin and grosgrain ribbon
trailed gardenias and dark green ivy.
There were red and yellow sneakers, ballet flats with polka dots,
Round toed shoes with square watch faces
worn brown brogues, each containing a flower.
Giant gold stilettos stuffed with paper white narcissus,
roses and nasturtiums added color to the mix.
Shoes, once shiny, sporty, stylish, now part of a mass graveyard.
Had this scene adorned a window at Bergdorfs, one would have smiled
at the window dresser's droll commentary.
Here the curious installation was perplexing and a bit eerie.
Who was the clandestine gardener who maintained this extraordinary
space, who gathered old shoes, stuffed them with dirt and leaves--
Turning ordinary old things into extraordinary vessels?