slippers raze the ones i wore each day before have been with me for the better part of thirty years. they flop around like dead things, slackened by my wildest weaving. a ragged hole for the nail on my dominant foot's longest finger. soles too thin to offer any buffer between where i end and where the ground beneath my feet begins. this new pair came in a box full of dreams. orange, with white stars painted on the side. today i trudge through snow deep enough to do me harm, and all i feel is the heat pulsing through half the heart that brought me this far. 221226 what's it to you? who go blather from