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MY BOOTS
They sit on my kitchen counter, my boots, stiff with dried artic dirt, warped from the frozen air, discarded and detested.
Did I really believe that sales pitch a year ago, exclusive artic treks, ‘Lost and found.’ ?
True, I was lost, ready to be alone in the rocky wilderness, a landscape pure and plain, untouched by humans. I can still sense the primal rocks and how they enchanted me. Wanted to curl up on the ground and drift away for ever.
They brought me back home, failed and furious. I despised the me that I found. What now ?