Socks

They fall into a different dimension
Along with the library book
That disappeared on a plane,
Never found.

There’s a place known to exist
On an oblique.
It absorbs matter
Without leaving a trace.

It is not entirely rational
And will, on a whim,
Return a book or a sock...
Or not.

When I was a child this "other"
Would steal my earmuffs.
A winter was incomplete
Without eight or ten such thefts.

I thought to outsmart this prankster
By moving to a warmer climate,
But neither maturity (otherwise known as aging)
Or earmuff abstinence stopped the fiend.

Now, in my dotage, it is socks and baseball caps.
This plague has brought me to a desperate pass.
I am determined to rid my life of all non-essentials.
Tomorrow I walk naked, for the first day of Forever.