I kicked my sandal across the patio.
I was tap, tapping my leg
To rid it of the cramp obtained from sitting,
My toe hooked the unfooted shoe
And sailed it to the sky.
No one noticed, I convinced myself, at the bottle shop’s
Picnic tabled front, not-really-a-front-porch, porch,
But that concrete area poured to the doors of a store entrance
In a suburban strip mall
Made cool by the vibrant Mexican restaurant
With Mariachi music and Day of the Dead string lights
And the Community Theater spilling out
Its ethnically diverse cast and cast of audience,
Black clad stage managers and production assistants
Mixed with The Art supporters and between-show actors,
Reviewers and podcast producers,
Friends and family at a preview showing
Of a local writer's work, thought provoking and timely.
My leg had cramped among all this talent
And I walked out into the warm September air
To stamp it out so I could return to offer
My accolades without a grimace.
Instead, I kicked my sandal to the sky.