POEM: Where Lost Socks Go

The other day I stumbled upon
That place where lost socks go
And I thought to myself
Of course, that makes sense
I would love to tell you where it is
But then I would have to kill you

I’m not a big fan of violence, but I couldn’t resist the twist of the mobster cliche at the end; it seems very campy, over the top.  I’m just grateful that I found the place where clean socks go — the other place is hell!


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