Sleep (or at least the flu) represents the victory over ego/over consciousness and all the thought, half-thought, ego entails./How else to explain why I don’t recall removing my socks in the middle of the night?/Those were some pretty warm socks, lined in merino wool terry, I’ll have you know./The elastic in the ankles is still nice and tight./No chance of those falling off in the night./Yet sleep won out, and now I can only find one, in the burial-ground of bed clothes./I hope I find the mate./Those were some pretty warm socks.


8 thoughts on “Socks

  1. Camellia

    Once the washing machine was just content to eat the one sock in the laundry room. Now it senses weakness, creeps into the bedroom, and gobbles the one lone sock while you sleep. Expect the Oliver Stone version to start filming soon. Hope you’re feeling better.


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