Alex hadn’t been barefoot in a long time.
He wasn’t a city boy– he was a swamp rat– but a swamp rat who took care about footware. Footwear. Hardware, software, shorn hair, footloose and fancy free, jumping and jiving. Alex kept on his toes. His shoes never pinched.
Alex’s “sneaker” of choice? By far? Jordan Spizike Low, retailing at $165.
Footware tootsie care, but no tootsie so fine, no bridge too far, as to shimmer in lace of cooling baptismal minister of masseuse waters of the mighty Mississippi.
Alex had walked those many miles in his Jordan Spizike Low. When he took them off, he carefully placed them on the bank where they wouldn’t get wet, muddy, or accidentally fall into the river and be lost.
Then, Alex dangled a testing toe into the waters– and dawdled.
Baptismal waters!
Tootsie sprinkles, glimmer rainbows of bliss transmitting soft forsooth soothing from toe to head– from Alex’s head, bliss broadcast into the universe. Alex’s pelt’s cowlicks serve as antennae.
Oh God! Dawdling, Alex realized these mighty “miss” or “Miss” or “mist” waters were the “source” of the baptizing waters sparingly twinkled that bright May morn when he, coerced by mommy, received blessing, of church. That May morning when Alex was baptized.
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