I will only wear the mid-calf tube from this day on.
I will throw out every other sock I own
And I’ll forget them when their gone,
Pretend the mid-calf’s all I’ve known.
The marvelous mid-calf tube, sweet foot pocket,
Blissful blazes of bleached glory
Busting eyes out of the sockets
That look on to this bright story.
The story when we retire all our other socks.
Is this that day, or is this just the buzz we
Chatter about when we talk
So we can dream of that white fuzzy.
That future memory that’s not so distant
If we’re consistently persistent
In our standards for our socks.
When we go out on our walks,
Or go to the grocery store
We shouldn’t have any more
Of socks never meant to go together.
Time constraints should not force a pair.
I dream of a day where
It doesn’t matter whether
I have my eyes open or closed
When I go in the sock drawer.
What are we pre-pairing for,
When we could have proposed
The solution long ago.
It’s time to rise up and take action
Join this mid-tube faction
And Throw out every other sock we know.