Poem: I Had Socks I Liked


I Had Socks I Liked

many years ago,
bought a case of them
from a strange store
on the lower east side
that sold only hosiery,
or at least that is how
I remember it.  They
lasted for a long
time, but eventually
were worn through,
but the store did not
have that brand
any longer, said
the manufacturer
was out of business,
so I bought other
socks that I never liked
near as much.  Those
I used dutifully, not
wanting to wast them,
despite the imperfections
that rendered them
inadequate to meet
the wants of my
ankles and toes.  Now
that those are worn
enough I won’t feel
too guilty for seeking
out an alternative,
even that store is
gone, and even if it
weren’t, I am living
far from there, hundreds
of miles south, with no
hosiery stores in the area,
so, I have to hunt around
online, hope what I order
will be even close, despite
my inability to check
the merchandise before
transacting the purchase,
wishing I could find
something that has
not been for so long
from a place that is
not anymore, when
even the method
of shopping has
turned entirely
against my priorities.

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