Two black clogs, thrown across the quiet street. One was asleep on its side; the other was standing tall, as clogs do.
As I biked past, I thought: what a heavenly buxom black woman must have thrown those! From that window, I thought, looking on to an unassuming night, bricked homes silent and covered in vines. The smile was too much on her face; she shouted out sometime between 3 and 4am: “Praise JESUS!” And he, the much-amused lover, laid simply by and laughed. At 3:56, she threw her only pair of work shoes out into the street in celebration. This morning, I saw the unintentional journal of a woman who lost her virginity and left the token for the world to find.
Grinning, I pedal onward to the next busy street, and on to home.