November Five: Below the Ankles

November Five.
Alive in a long, warm autumn.
A walk across the college campus.
Feelings of being over-dressed and over-aged.
A day to look around.

November Five: Below the Ankles
(1/3 of the November Trilogy)

Bob Komives

Who wears his cap bill-back?
Of which tribe are he and she and they?
Who wears her cap bill-front?
Of which tribe are she and they and he?
Can I trust conclusions from years of observation?
The Bill-fronts have come back
(from near extinction)
to dominate.
Have they prospered by conversion?
in-migration?
propagation?
war?
No matter the explanation,
a more obvious observation:
    the hat on my head is popular
    only among dermatologists.
Conveniently too warm,
I stow hat into pocket
and join the inconspicuous tribe
(yet populous tribe)
of No-bills.
This humble act pulls my eyes down
to where I happen to notice feet,
two, three pairs of feet,
walking and standing
(to my surprise)
on the thonged sandals I know as flip-flops.
Surpised,
pleased,
these artifacts too avoid extinction-
after tenuous years of survival
inside a few shower rooms,
outside on lonely July beaches,
and, of course,
here on a warm November day
on my two feet.
They survived verbal abuse
from cross-foot-sandal tribes,
from friend and family.
During its ascendance
the cross-foot became more rugged,
more varied,
expensive-
kicking humble flip-flops from the landscape.
But today I see three,
four, five young women of fashion
wearing sturdy, expensive flip-flops.
They signal a re-born trend,
and acknowledge me as leader.

I walk off campus,
more alive,
newly aligned,
and rejuvenated below the ankles.

Bob Komives :: Fort Collins © 2011 :: November Five: Below The Ankles :: 0205

featured in the book Good Day with the art of Gale Whitman