oddly beautiful

i once
had a very close friend
with a french name
who was oddly beautiful

we had matching belly button rings

a rembrandt face
her obliques over sized
from swimming
burgundy tendrils
all manic panic

we were too young and full
of punk
not to completely destroy each other
teen tempests in a toyota tea cup

when i consider her fading light
the one thing i remember
about why i loved her

was

at 17 years old, she boldly
wore a pair of weathered sneakers
as an act of defiance
white cracked leather
pink piping
a dead kennedys symbol
bic penned on the heel of the right
black socks emblazoned
with her mother’s pretentious disgust

taking pride loudly
each time she slipped them on
in not having
untied them
for five years