Left shoe Right there on the curb

Left shoe. Right there on the curb.

The lace just snapped.

A frayed end, dangling, useless.

Felt it go. The whole structure

of my day, ready to unravel.

Looked down at the concrete.

Fumbled in my pocket. Keys, lint,

a flattened receipt, then it.

Shiny, silver, bent it open

with a thumbnail, then back, carefully,

into an awkward loop.

Pushed it through the eyelet, tied it off

with the broken string, a little knot

of metal and string.

It dug in a bit, walking.

A small, sharp pressure.

But it held.