Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Always the same brand. I sometimes allow myself the indulgence of a slight change in style. But always the same brand, and always black. My suits are either grey or dark blue so it follows that my Monday to Friday shoes are black. And safely tied with a double knot.

The sales girl asks if she can help. I provide the specifications and muse over the extravagance of the other shoes on display while she locates a pair for me to try.

I sit on the middle chair in a row of five while the sales girl kneels on
the carpet in front of me and opens the shoebox. She looks on doubtfully as I begin to unpick the double knots. Her knees are lightly tanned, and bare.

With the new shoes fitted, she suggests that I try walking in them. Up and back, past the ground level mirror. As I stand looking at the shoes in the mirror and the tissue paper spilling from the shoebox that the sales girl still holds in her lap, I succumb to a sudden urge and ask - can I try a pair of slip-ons?

The box looks similar. But I wait a little nervously as the laceless shoes emerge. My right index finger follows the edge of the soft leather around to the heel and helps my cotton sock slip smoothly into the shoe. And then the left shoe. They seem to fit securely. And yet there is a freedom. I flex my foot and slide it partly from the shoe, confident that the situation can be recovered. No longer black or white. Shades of grey. Reminiscent of a time with fewer constraints.

Slowly her finger traces the outline of my lower lip. Searches gently beneath the bristly hairs of my moustache for the shape of my upper lip. Quietly, she rests her hand on my chest.

I look back and see the sales girl waiting for my response.

                               vows of love
                               a young man
                               ties the knot