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They're all a comforting sight when I walk into my closet.
Black, brown, red.
Some of them have mental or physical breakdowns upon each wearing.
Others are strong and supportive when I start to run.
My favorite is still my brown Dr. Martens
I tried to wear them a while ago
but the tongue kept falling out
as if it were giving me some sort of obscene gesture.
The laces frayed, the signature
yellow stitching marred with debris.
I remember when I bought them
at Track n Trail in 9th grade.
Edwyn Collins' A Girl Like You was playing in the store
and I had just watched Empire Records.
I thought they were everything I had hoped for -
expensive, a sign of status
and acceptance.
I remember how clean they used to be, so simple
Outlasted so many cheaper varieties.
They sit in a box in the basement
at my parents' house.
I'm not ready to say goodbye, so every once in a while,
I try them on and think about an adolescence gone by.