Читать книгу Forgiveness Parade - Jeffrey McDaniel - Страница 12

MANNEQUIN COMPLEX

During my formative years,

my mother had this annoying habit

of taking me into shoe stores

and forgetting all about me.

She’d try on heels and pumps,

sandals and beige leather boots,

winking at herself in the mirror,

like she was Cinderella.

I’d crawl into the stockroom

behind the stacks of boxes,

until the last employee clicked

off the lights and headed home.

Then I’d emerge, place a shoe horn

in the palm of my favorite mannequin,

and sleep at her feet gleefully

because she was my flesh and blood.