If I could bring anything, I would bring my edgy socks
They breathe between who I am now and the steps I am taking to become
They smoothen the edges I have formed around my insides
When I wear foxy socks, I feel foxy
I am Jimmy Hendrix’ Foxy lady who spends her nights wild and sleepless
Not an 18 year old who spends her nights studying and dreamless.
I will take notes faster than you can when I wear those socks
when I wear those socks I can smile even though I would like to gauge my eyes out from staring at a computer screen for ten hours.
When I wear my lemon socks, I can turn coconut juice into the most thirst quenching lemonade your parched lips have ever tasted.
When I wear my Frida Kahlo socks, I feel my bushy monobrow is a work of art and I am a woman even if I do not need no man
When I wear my Christmas socks, I smell the waft of my mother’s caramel chunky chestnut chocolate cookies
And I hear Saint John’s Choir singing Christmas carols in the background
When I wear my collection of fuzzy funky fresh socks to cover up the scabs this island has scratched into my skin, I feel the culture of centuries of human history heal me.