Mary Jane's Shoes

Mary Jane's Shoes

Musings of one person among many. Not exceptional in any way, as with all, I have exceptional experiences and varied reactions to those events. Mine is one of many life stories and how I manage and cope with the events which make my life my own, I attempt to put forth by way of my writings.

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October 28, 2015



Drinking from the water glass

has not rid me of this embarrassing fun. 

Sitting I am at the table, long, 

so full in length my aging eyes cannot be sure

of the personalities seated at the opposite end of the unmarred inlaid wood plank. 

My tendency is to hope I am the only guest that heard my unintentionally formed lung pop.

Salad forks, dinner forks, knives serrated and not, and silver spoons of different cuts are placed around the largest plate’s circumference. 

The pattern displayed is perfectly monotonous. 

Impeccably advertised. 


Striking is the silver; 

vibrant is the light off crystal,

yet the setting lacks vivid life. 


The stillness is a striking vision of all that is not living. 


Perfectly spaced and arranged. 

In a life desired, and graced upon me, 

here now all is lifeless,

until my escaping hiccup breaks through the rigid meal.


Hiccups. I have the painful sort. 

While touching the white linen cloth

that carries the china, silver, crystal,

my chest expands;

it releases a second inappropriate sound, 

at a greater volume than the first. 

The figures beyond my clear vision,

at the far end of the table,

react uncomfortably to the sound.

I do see their life and movement. 

No more is this table stagnant. 

Chuckles of the humored,

and gasps of those not so tickled,

unveil awakened guests’ now disrupted attempts to be too civilized. 

Utensils are used and returned to a lazy spots. 

Wine sloshes in uncontrolled goblets. 

Guttural sounds and full belly laughs bring life to the strictly displayed scene.

Real humans now sit here, no facades. 

The uniform line no longer guides.

The reaction erases the calligraphy, the painstakingly written lines;

it eases restrictions,

and each person lives without a harness steering her or him in the proper direction. 


Hiccups break the stillness, 

the monotony, 

as does thunder. It, the noise of thunder claps

awakens the stillness in a scene. 

They are only two of the infinite sounds of life

vibrating the tiny bones in my ears. 

The deliberate dive of the fox in snow,

nature’s movement follows a regimen. 

The fox owns a GPS of sorts. 

Science is in control. 

Rules of nature reign. 

Manners of life guide. 

Yet movement, when left to be, 

does express and teach what is fullness of life. 

Our fox surprises his intended prey; 

a vibrant shock awakens. 

We do not know,

when surprise will stir the living. 


A break in dominant, pure, stirring monotony, 
the lowly hiccup awakens what is beneath the linen tablecloth of order. 

It does have order, the ordered actions of and on this world. 


of chemistry and physics,

are followed. 

Even still we find ourselves surprised. 

Though sound is part of a grand outline, 

it arrives without warning as does the pounce of the fox in white snow. 

Both are welcome interruptions to the still. 


If I cared not about nature’s rules, 

I would not see sense in life. 

I do care. 

I am not privy to the timing

of each action, sight, sound, touch, or smell;

I accept the surprise. 

I revel in the hiccup at my table

and the subsequent stirrings; 

the ordered chaos of living is a welcome hug. 

I too, with continued surprises and reveling in them, 

would find at death myself,

an even more vibrant human

armed with an overwhelmingly full existence,

owning a mess of organized chaos,

and hiccups at the table. 


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