Shod as a girl in sensible Hush Puppies, how did my feet go astray?
Corns – I grow my own crop.
Bunion – should I name mine Paul?
I bemoan clodhoppers but am thankful I have feet,
summon praise for podiatrists who name the fascist Plantar and form my orthotics.
Who are the betrayers of the ball, arch, heel, tendons, fascia, ligaments?
Was it the Loafer, the Pump, the Mary Jane, the Earth, the Espadrille, the Wedge, the Platform, the Wallaby, the Hurache?
I eschewed the Stiletto. Was that a mistake? Should I have given them a tango on the dance floor?
And what about DaVinci calling the foot a masterpiece of engineering, a work of art?
Leonardo, do you have a fetish?
These days I look for New Balance, preferably lace-up.