What I Meant to Fix

I was making room for a storage bin—

pulling out the winter coats—

when the bag came with them.

Stop and Shop, the plastic thin.

Black dress shoes inside.

I wore them every workday

for three years at a job

I don't talk about.

By the second year

the left sole was going soft at the toe.

I bagged them, told myself I'd get them resoled.

Set the bag in the back of the closet

and kept stepping around it

every time I needed a coat.

I took the left one out last night.

The sole had peeled away from the toe—

not snapped off, just

hanging open at the front,

like something mid-sentence

that lost the point.

I put it back in the bag.

Put the bag back behind the coats.

The storage bin can wait.