The Missing Sock Always Knows Where the Other Is


I lose one sock every other washing.

The wisdom of the washer and dryer

says that God is stockpiling the lost one

to be reunited with the other in heaven.

Does that mean those with perfectly

mated, never separated pairs, are

doomed to the spin dry of eternal hell?

But then, it’s Smart of God, not letting me

hop around on one foot in my nakedness.


Socks are greater than love.

They remind us that things

lost will eventually be found,

show the foolishness of looking

back to see what’s coming.

They are reminders that

rain is the reason clotheslines

have disappeared.