You asked me what I look for
in a women,
and I said, “Shoes are the eyes to the soul.”
Look for those that tread lightly,
but leave impressions.
Not just on the heart,
but on the chasm
that spans the frontal lobe
of black nor white.
that builds castles in Spain,
chases rainbows through drought,
and on the haunches of a jackass,
searches for the grandeur of windmills.
that wallows in self-doubt,
struggles with the pros and cons of singularity,
the density of black holes,
the frailty of glass slippers.
This blessed divide,
where numerator and denominator co-exist
in perfect ratio
that is gold.