YOU BOUGHT THEM

she says, of my
Ugh Boots, as if
stating an inexplicable fact. I guess she does not
remember me as a person with a life, a person
who went to Santa Fe on the train in the winter and
needed Ugh Boots. They sure came in handy, kept my
feet warm and toasty while I figured out how to deal with
the freezing dry air up my sinuses. I
remember a room with a fireplace, too, in an
old adobe house that was a bed-and-breakfast, and
walking, walking, walking in those boots, exploring
the city, always coming back to the plaza with its
jewelry-and-pottery-covered blankets everywhere. Resenting my
poverty as I looked and looked and looked at things
I wanted to buy, not that I needed them but that
they cried out to me: Buy me! But I
couldn't. A
good thing too as what would I have done with all those
things? I never wore jewelry, had no place to put
pottery; still if I'd had
more cash I guess I would have gone home laden
with gifts. As it was, I just
admired. Oh, Santa Fe, the holy faith
of St. Francis of Assisi, the end
of the Santa Fe Trail, city that I love to this day and
always will, I'm glad I had my
Ugh Boots to walk around you in, and glad I can remember
you.