<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div dir="auto" style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><p style="margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;" class=""><font class="">A History of High Heels</font><font class=""> </font></p><p style="margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;" class=""><br class=""></p><p style="margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;" class=""><font class="">It’s like God leaned down long ago and said,<br class="">to a woman who was just standing around, <br class="">“How would you like a pair of shoes<br class="">that shoves the backs of your feet up about four inches<br class="">so you balance always on your tiptoes<br class=""><br class="">and your spine roller-coasters forward, then back,<br class="">so that even when you are spin-doctoring a corporate merger<br class="">or returning from your father’s funeral in Florida,<br class="">your rump sticks out in a fertility announcement<br class=""><br class="">and your chest is pushed out a little bit in front of you,<br class="">the way that majorettes precede a marching band?”<br class=""><br class="">No, I shouldn’t have said that — I’m sorry.<br class="">It’s just my curdled bitterness talking;<br class="">it’s just my disappointment flaring up <br class=""> in a little brush fire of misogyny,<br class="">in a toxic chemical blaze of misdirected scorn —<br class=""><br class="">because today is one of those days when I am starting to suspect<br class="">that sex was just a wild-goose chase<br class="">in which I honk-honk-honked away<br class=""> three-quarters of my sweet, unconscious life.<br class=""><br class="">Now my hair is gray, and I’m in the Philadelphia airport, <br class="">where women are still walking past me endlessly<br class="">with that <em class="">clickety-clack, clickety-clack</em>,<br class="">flipping their hair and licking their teeth,<br class=""><br class="">while underneath my own shoes <br class="">I suddenly can feel the emptiness of space;<br class="">and over my head, light falling from the sky <br class="">that all these years <br class="">I might have been leaning back <br class=""><br class="">to gaze at and long for and praise.</font></p><div class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- Tony Hoagland</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; line-height: 13pt;" class=""><font class=""></font> <br class="webkit-block-placeholder"></div></div></body></html>