Coming Undone


A Woman In The Tenderloin

She walks in the Tenderloin in her stocking feet.

Tan leather bag, black and white coat,

she appeared put together.

One might say.


But she was in her stocking feet,

how  could she put together?

She was  put together but slightly coming apart.

One, might say.


The unraveling started from her feet.

Spiky, pointed red pumps in her right hand.

Walking down Jones and Eddy  in the urine,

broken glass, garbage, spent condoms;

but she was put together.

One might say.


Red spiky pumps just would not go with her outfit,

She would not look put together.

Bare feet will not do  as  well.

When will we let her unravel,

come apart?

Release her from the obligation of appearance.

When will we say she has come undone?

When the shoes don’t match; or when she walks in her stocking feet.

When will we let her let go and fall, not think of her and not look at her.

One might say, we do it every day.

We let them come undone.

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One thought on “Coming Undone

  1. I love this!

    Isn’t it ironic that we use the term “stocking feet” to mean someone without shoes, often not wearing stockings or socks either.

    The obligation of appearance can make us appear more undone, or less so than we really are. Facades or our real faces, it is hard to say which is which. Careful, don’t decide to quickly, one way or the other.

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