Musings by The Poet Loriet

Sock Hop

Sitting Indian style,
I bury my hands
in laundry basket  
oblivion.
 
"Quiet everyone...
It's almost time
for roll call...
All those present
say AYE!"
 
My support group,
SWAP  
(socks without a partner)
is congregating.
 
I try to facilitate
chance meetings,
studying their profiles,
wondering how they
become so alone in the
 
Big Clothing Store Called Life.
 
I try forcing those with
common interests--
 
yuppy argyles
sporty stripes
muted monochromes
snappy psychedelics--
 
to fold their existence
into one another,
becoming intensely one,
then separating...
ever so slightly
to walk side by side.
 
Seems ideal, yet
opposites DO attract...
 
Funny how my mismatched
socks bear my resemblance--
 
Even THEY  
like to think outside the box!
 
Or~
they may merely be
 
  L  O  S  T
 
swimming in a sea of
cotton anonymity,
searching for a SOLE-mate.
 
In a fit of rebellion,
I toss them gleefully
into the air--
 
"Be free! Be free!
Fly away!
Escape~while you can!"
 
Leaving the sock pile
untouched and free to be,
I shut the door,
going outside in jubilation
to dance barefoot
in the cool grass
to the beat  
of my own drum!
 


Lori Beal


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Sock Hop

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