Untitled (a Taoist poem)
The horses gambol about
Drunk on fields of yellow dandelions
Laughing in horsey whickers
Missing socks
I finally caught him in the act
The little guy in the dryer
Who steals socks.
"But I'm cold!" he cried.
"Nonsense," I replied.
"One would have been enough."
"No," he said, "they cool off."
Head hanging low, he led me
To the pile stuffed in the wall,
With rat-hole access.
We pulled them out one by one.
Here, the plaid one
From ten years ago.
I loved those socks.
Alas, all the mates
Have been trashed.
But I'll toss two of these
Into the dryer
For each wash
From now on.
So the sock guy can keep warm.
