things i found on the underside of my shoe
to my surprise, there was no twisted wad of chewing gum, although i was sure i’d felt something squish into the ridges of my sole as i hurried down the sidewalk this morning.
instead, when i scraped into my sole with the pointy side of a twig, i found layers of multi-colored sediment: the first, a pulverized white substance, potentially scraps of sugar fallen to the ground from the gumdrops which were passed around at Bobby’s party. then, a dense, two-toned chunk of dirt which my shoe had clawed from the earth as i struggled against it last sunday, the last time i hiked the zigzag path from the lake to the top of the knoll. the top part was brown, indistinguishable from a dog turd; its underside a fleshy clay tucked like subcutaneous tissue beneath the earth’s surface.
a stray pine needle and a cat whisker clung to each other on the inside of one ridge of my sole. they were the exact length and girth, doppelgängers from a certain distance although one had been shed by a mortal animal whereas the other fell from a tree which never loses its green.